


The F-Word

by patchfire, raving_liberal



Series: Story of Three Boys [23]
Category: Glee
Genre: Brothership, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-29
Updated: 2011-10-01
Packaged: 2017-10-24 03:48:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchfire/pseuds/patchfire, https://archiveofourown.org/users/raving_liberal/pseuds/raving_liberal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys make it through the end of October: hallways, games, and Halloween.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Teaser

It’s not every day that one of your players asks to talk to you about another one of your players, and asks for you to ease off on the other guy. But it’s Hudson talking about Puckerman, which makes it a lot more understandable and a lot less unexpected.

Hudson’s right, too; now that he’s said something, she can see the exhaustion in Puckerman’s face and in his movements. She thought he just needed to be pushed harder; he actually seems to need more sleep, more down time, and probably more time with–well, that’s none of her business, but it can’t be easy to keep something like that a secret.

So she keeps an eye on Puckerman, and she notices Hudson doing the same. Puckerman still seems tired, though, and she knows he’s under a lot of pressure. She sees the little upward twitch of his lips when he sees the ‘Safe Space’ sticker on her office window, and she wishes that an eighteen year old boy didn’t have to make the teachers understand the extra burden some of their students carry.

She wishes Puckerman didn’t have to ask the question he asks.

 

Luke Johannson hates that little fag. His stupid faggoty hats, his stupid faggot scarves, the stupid faggoty way he flaps his hands around like he's trying to swat bugs. The presence of him, the idea of him, is disgusting. He doesn't belong in the halls with decent people, _normal_ people.

Johannson can't believe he got kicked off the team...over _this_. He knee ruined, over _this_. Little fairy flitting down the hallways looking all smug and safe, when all Johannson wants to do is take a bat to his stupid fucking face, because he's the reason Johannson's in a knee brace, why he can't walk back out on the field.

Him, and fucking _Puckerman_ of all people. Stupid motherfucking Puckerman, hero and savior of all McKinley faggots. It's like he's that little queer's _boyfriend_ , the way he jumped up and got in Johannson and Fordham's faces about it. Maybe he _is_ his boyfriend. Johannson snorts at the mental image of Puckerman all fagged up in some stupid hat and pussy little scarf, mincing around McKinley. Probably Hudson's paying him to babysit his queer brother, is what's really happening, because in his mind, Johannson just can't picture Puckerman with rainbows and fucking, whatever, unicorns or something.

Puckerman doesn't control him, Johannson decides. Neither does the Beiste, not now that she's booted them off the team. And yeah, maybe Johannson can't shove the little fudge-packer into the wall like he wants to, but this is America, and he has a God-given right to free speech. He can say whatever the fuck he wants to that queer or anybody else, and even the fucking _Constitution_ backs him up.

Johannson has rights, too.

 

The green, shiny shorts may haunt Finn until the end of his days. He didn't know they made pants that color. He didn't know they made pants that _tight_ , and he lives with Kurt, so that's saying something! But there's Puck, painted into a pair of metallic green shorts, and Finn just doesn't know what to think.

Ok, Finn knows what to think, 'cause he's thinking, dude, those shorts. _Those shorts_! No, seriously. Those shorts?

Those shorts.


	2. Episode 3x07

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [playlist for this episode](http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLEEF3AFD0ABF75EC7)

Puck and Kurt pick up Finn again on Sunday night, as well as Rachel, on the way to Mike’s, and Mike’s mom smiles brightly at all four of them before she ushers them downstairs, where Mike, Tina, Sam, and Mercedes are already waiting.

“So, are you guys’ committees ready for a report back,” Finn asks Mike and Tina. “I don’t expect anything to be _done_ , obviously, but I’d like to see what everybody is working on!”

“We’ve actually made a lot of progress with ‘Seasons of Love,’” Tina says with a bright smile.

“And we have a good idea of where we’re going, I think,” Mike adds.

Quinn, Santana, and Brittany appear then, and Sam and Mike disappear back upstairs to carry Artie down. Once they’re all assembled, they all look inquiringly at Finn.

“How’s everybody feeling about our progress so far?” Finn asks.

“Well, we’ve worked out some possibilities,” Mike elaborates. “I think we have the first thirty or forty seconds pretty well choreographed for ‘I Gotta Feeling,’ but after a point we have to know exactly who’s singing when. I don’t want to give anyone complex choreography at a point they’re soloing.”

“‘Seasons of Love’ is going very well,” Tina interjects. “We have a couple of considerations about one part that we thought we’d bring to everyone’s attention.”

“Sure, go on ahead,” Finn says. “You guys are the pros!”

“Well, after the two big solos, there’s a part where one girl sings a different part than all the rest of us, and we couldn’t decide who should take that part, between Santana and Mercedes.”

Finn looks thoughtful. “How do we decide? Who has had more solo opportunities the last couple years?”

“Well, Mercedes had the solo at the beginning of ‘Human,’ but Santana killed it with ‘Valerie’ at Sectionals last year,” Tina says, looking conflicted.

“I guess we’ll have to put their names into the hat,” Finn jokes. “That worked out really great for everyone last time.” He raises his eyebrows a little at Kurt, who looks mildly embarrassed.

“Do both of them even want it?” Puck asks, looking at Mercedes and then Santana, who both nod after a minute.

“Maybe both of them should sing it for us?” Artie suggests.

Finn nods slowly and presses his lips together, like he’s thinking it over. “Yeah, I think that would be a good place to start.”

“Well, let’s do it, then,” Mercedes asserts. “I’ll go first.”

Mercedes sings the lines first, and then Santana takes the same lines. Puck shrugs and exchanges a glance with Kurt, who also shrugs.

“I thought that they both did a great job,” Rachel says enthusiastically. “But Mercedes hasn’t had as many opportunities in competition.”

“Everybody in the club needs to feel like he or _she_ gets a fair chance,” Finn says. “I mean, I really love the stuff everybody has done, and we have had some really fantastic solos and duets, but I think we all know that Mr. Schue tends to go with the same voices for most stuff.”

“I don’t think we should vote,” Puck points out. “Voting just turns into a posturing thing. Finn, you and Tina and Mike should confer and decide.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Finn nods. “I think that might be a good plan.”

“Is that the only part of ‘Seasons of Love’ that you haven’t worked out?” Kurt asks. When Tina nods, he turns to Finn. “Why don’t you three go ahead and do that, then, and they’ll have one song finished.”

Finn, Tina, and Mike go into a side room for a few minutes. Puck and the others sit around while they’re gone, Rachel trying to engage Kurt and Puck in discussing their song. Puck just shakes his head and tells her later, and then the other three reemerge.

“We’ve decided that Mercedes would be a better fit for this number,” Finn says. “Santana, don’t stab her in the parking lot, ok? We’re going to make sure you get a solo in a competition this year, too. No way we’re gonna waste that voice, right?”

Mercedes smiles, clearly pleased, and Santana dips her head a little in acknowledgment of Finn’s words, though she’s obviously disappointed.

“So let’s take a look at what we’ve done!” Tina claps her hands together a few times. “Really, we did it so well that day at the beginning of the year, we mostly kept it the same. Except, Kurt, you’ll do the first lines by yourself.”

Puck swivels to look at Kurt, who looks genuinely startled, but happy, and Puck grins a little at him. Puck’s grin fades a little when Tina keeps speaking, though. “They insisted I keep the part I soloed before, and then Puck, you’ll still do Collins’ solo.”

Now Kurt’s the one grinning at him while he looks stunned.

“And we thought during the part that starts with ‘in daylights,’ we’d each come in, phrase by phrase,” Tina concludes, looking around to see what everyone thinks.

“Tina, do you want to assign us the spot where we come in?” Finn asks. “We could do a rough run-through today, maybe?”

“Sure!” Tina grabs a pencil and a copy of the sheet music, quietly conferring with the other three in her committee, and then hands that copy to Finn, the four of them marking the remaining copies quickly.

Then they do in fact go through the song, and it sounds surprisingly good for a first go at it. Finn smiles hugely at all of them. “That sounded great! Man, we’ve got this _down_ guys. We’re so good at this! Now, I think Mike’s mom has some kind of, uh, Asian snack or something upstairs for us. Do we want to call it quits for the day?”

Everyone nods and heads upstairs, some more sedately than others. Puck hangs back a little, as he usually does, and he and Kurt walk up last. “Solos. Imagine that,” he muses.

“I know,” Kurt smiles almost secretively. “ _That_ wouldn’t’ve happened with Schue. You, me, Tina, _and_ Mercedes? Carrying a solo in competition?”

“We’re gonna be awesome,” Puck grins.

 

 _Mondays should be banned_ is the over-riding thought in Puck's head by the time he leaves first period. His history teacher has decided over the weekend that they "need" a test on Friday, so now Puck's list of assignment and other shit is even more over the top full.

He sinks onto his stool in physics and folds his arms on the table, resting his head on them while he waits for Kurt and the beginning of class. After a minute, there's a soft touch along his shoulders and then down his left arm, and he smiles before opening his eyes to see Kurt peering at him.

"Okay, baby?" Kurt says softly.

"History teacher decided we're having a test on Friday," he grimaces, and Kurt sighs and nods.

"I'm sorry," Kurt says softly. "We'll try to get your English thing done tonight, then."

"Yeah, okay," Puck nods, and then they attempt to learn physics. Unfortunately for Puck, the physics teacher announces that they'll have a test in a week. "Happy fucking Halloween," he mutters under his breath, and Kurt snorts beside him.

English does little to improve Puck's day, though at least there are no _new_ assignments or tests announced. Puck's not really in the mood for peppy Mr. Schue, but that's what he gets anyway.

"Who has a great song for us? I'm really looking forward to what you guys have done with this assignment."

"While Kurt and I are preparing a wonderful song for Thursday, I would like to perform today as well," Rachel speaks up. "I've been simply _dying_ for an appropriate opportunity to sing this for all of you." She smiles as she walks to the front of the room, and no one stops her.

When the first strains of the music start, though, there's a couple of noises that could be aborted groans, and Puck has to work _really_ hard not to start laughing because, really, after the morning he's already had, listening to Rachel sing "My Heart Will Go On" is just the capper to make him feel slightly hysterical. Even Brad looks faintly nauseated as he plays the chords. Puck can still remember his mom listening to the song over and over–he was four or five, he guesses–and she re-watches the movie at least once a year. It's not that Rachel does a bad job with the song; really, she does a wonderful job with the song. It's just that the song itself is so awful, and they manage only scattered, polite applause. Schue looks pained, and Puck guesses he was just out of high school or something when the movie came out, so he probably heard his allotment of Celine Dion before age twenty.

"Well, uh, thank you, Rachel," he coughs out. "I'm glad my theme provided you an opportunity that you'd been looking for."

"No, thank _you_ , Mr. Schuester," Rachel smiles brightly and takes her seat again, leaning her head against Finn's arm.

"Well, who'd like to go next?"

"We will," Quinn offers. "Brittany and I decided to work together on this one."

Puck decides it's '90s week and someone forgot to tell him, because they start singing "You'll Be in My Heart," which would be disturbing enough even if it weren't for the fact that _Tarzan_ was Hannah's favorite movie the summer she turned five, when Puck was fifteen and stuck at home all summer to save his mom money on daycare. Puck could probably recite the entire movie from heart, including all the lyrics.

It's official, he decides. Monday sucks.

"Oh, I love a nice Disney movie," Schue says when they finish, though. "Really, so nice, girls, you did a great job with that." He smiles. "Who else is ready today?" Puck shakes his head, just in case Schue decides to start volunteering people, and after a few moments, Santana stands up.

"I think this one's pretty familiar to everyone," is all she says before the jazz band starts to play and she opens her mouth to wail out the opening notes.

 _Come on, come on, come on, come on…  
Didn't I make you feel like you were the only man, well, yeah,  
An' didn't I give you nearly everything that a woman possibly can?  
Honey, you know I did!  
And each time I tell myself that I, well, I think I've had enough,  
But I'm gonna show you baby, that a woman can be tough_

Puck has to admit, when it comes to the girls, Santana's voice, while very different from Rachel's, is nearly as exceptional, and Santana knows exactly which songs showcase it. The performance is emotional and rich, and when Santana finishes, almost all of the club gives her a standing ovation. She looks surprised for a split-second, then covers it with a smug smile as she saunters back to her seat. Even Schue is momentarily stunned speechless.

"Wow, Santana. That was an amazing performance. Just gorgeous. Well-done." He looks around, shaking his head a little. "That's a tough act to follow. Does anyone want to attempt it?"

"Well, I wouldn't attempt to try, normally," Sam offers, "But I have my guitar here, so it'd be good if I went."

"All right, let's hear it!"

It's a familiar tune to Puck; Neil Young's 'Heart of Gold,' and Sam does a good job with it, pitching his voice just a little lower as he plays the tune on the guitar.

 _That keeps me searching for a heart of gold  
And I'm getting old  
Keeps me searching for a heart of gold  
And I'm getting old_

"Beautiful," Schue nods at the end, as Sam retakes his seat with a smile. "Great songs, everyone. Remember, be thinking about fundraising ideas and we'll discuss them after some of you perform, on Thursday!" The bell nearly cuts off Schue's last syllables, which means Puck and Kurt are going to have to hurry a bit to get their lunch eaten and make it to classes on time. Because it's just that kind of day, there's a four-car pile-up on Harding, though luckily past the point where they stopped to eat, and Puck makes it into his one o'clock class just as the professor's about to begin.

The only good thing that happens is that Puck does make it back to McKinley ahead of the final bell, and he heads for the locker room while Kurt heads to the choir room to rehearse with Rachel. The locker room is empty and he heads out onto the field just as the final bell rings, alone with his thoughts.

His games have been going downhill, even if no one else has exactly connected the dots. He's stressed and exhausted and if Kurt's admitting to being worried, he knows something has to change. He can't continue the way he is.

When he's halfway through practice and absently wishes he were still in _class_ , he knows things are fucked.

He gets out of the locker room and walks to the Nav, throwing his stuff in and climbing into the passenger seat with a sigh. He knows Kurt's probably been held hostage by Rachel, but after ten minutes, he pulls out his phone and calls him anyway.

"Hi. I know, I just finished."

"Hey. No big," Puck assures him. "Thought I'd rescue you in case Rachel was trying to hold you for ransom or something."

"Mmm, my dad might decide it'd be cheaper not to pay it."

"I'd ransom you."

"Oh? Good to know," Kurt's voice is light, and then it fades away as he talks to someone else. "I think we're fine. Thursday, yes. Bye, Rachel." Then it's louder again. "Sorry. I'll be there in a minute."

"Okay, blue eyes. Be good."

"I'm always good."

 

Kurt's rehearsal with Rachel goes surprisingly well, in Kurt's opinion. They come to a fairly quick agreement on which parts each of them will sing–well, fifteen minutes is quick when the two of them are working together, anyway–and then spend the remainder of the afternoon alternating between going through the song and gossiping.

Rachel surprisingly, or not so surprisingly, depending on how Kurt chooses to look at it, avoids the topic of Puck entirely, as well as avoiding questions about the Warblers, Ikea, and whether Kurt's got any prospects in the love department. It's both a relief and deeply weird, so Kurt tries to keep the conversation on safer topics with no awkward lulls.

They're finishing "one last run-through" when part of "Edge of Glory" rings out and Kurt glances at the clock.

"Oh, I have to go." He snaps up the phone. "Hi. I know, I just finished," he says, in lieu of a greeting. Rachel eyes him curiously through the first part of the conversation as he collects his things and then heads towards the door.

Kurt turns his head from the phone for a minute to address Rachel. "I think we're fine.”

"We'll perform on Thursday?"

"Thursday, yes. Bye, Rachel."

"Bye!"

Kurt doesn't look back, so he's not sure if Rachel overhears anything else, but he's sure that her gaze was calculating.

 

"I found myself wishing I was still in _class_. Class, K. How messed up is that?" Puck announces as soon as Kurt closes his door.

Kurt just giggles a little. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen," he mocks, grinning, and Puck can't help but return the grin.

"Seriously, that's probably not a good sign," Puck says after a minute, and Kurt just nods, taking Puck's hand.

"Probably not," he concedes. "But you need to think about it a little longer, baby, okay?"

"Okay. I will."

"What's for dinner tonight, do you think?"

"Stir-fry, maybe. It's been awhile since we had it and there's a lot of vegetables in the refrigerator."

"Mmm, that does sound good. With plenty of rice and soy sauce."

"But what will Mom and Hannah eat, if we get at it first?"

Kurt grins. "Excellent question."

The rest of the day does improve after that, Puck has to concede mentally. They manage to finish _all_ of Puck's English assignments for the week, plus math for both of them and Kurt finishes his French due the next day. Rina doesn't stop by to subtly suggest Kurt leave when she's on her way to bed, either, so the only downsides to the evening is that they both remain fully clothed (though kisses are an excellent motivator for studying) and Kurt has to leave at the end.

 

"Let's try an experiment," Puck decides at the end of physics on Tuesday. "You said they're still being stupid idiots?"

"Every day," Kurt nods, mouth a little tight.

"So, I'll walk you all the way to your classroom, and we'll see what happens."

"I suppose it can't hurt," Kurt shrugs, and Puck nods his agreement.

They're just about halfway to Kurt's classroom when Puck notices Johannson and Fordham approaching. He cuts his gaze away immediately, and he and Kurt continue walking, seemingly unaware of their existence.

"Oh, look, _two_ faggots today."

"One little, two little faggots."

When the hissed words penetrate Puck's brain, he feels blank for a long second, on auto-pilot, and he keeps walking without thinking, at least for a few more steps. Then he stops, noticing Kurt's gaze on him.

"Did…?"

"Yeah." Kurt's lips are pursed tightly. "They did."

"Does it always feel like this?" Puck can't describe it. He feels sad, hurt, angry, stunned–all of it at the same time, and yet more than just the combination of them all. Like someone both choked him and put an oxygen mask over his face, at the same time.

Kurt presses his lips together and nods. "Yeah."

"Okay. Okay. We're gonna go to class now."

"Yeah. We are. And we'll talk this evening, okay, baby?" Kurt's voice is quiet.

"Yeah. Okay." Puck takes a deep breath as Kurt heads towards his classroom. "Be good, blue eyes."

"I'm always good." Kurt smiles, and Puck returns the smile, but neither smile quite reaches their eyes.

Puck keeps it together, or at least mostly, all the way through English and through the first ten minutes of class. After that, though, Rachel narrows her eyes a little at him and then leans over to whisper to him. "Are you okay?"

Puck nods shortly, not daring to open his mouth, but his mind is absolutely churning. If they _know_ , then maybe Puck won't be able to protect Kurt, and they were willing to beat up Puck, and Puck's mind imagines Kurt with a black eye or bruised ribs and his stomach starts churning, too. He manages to sit through another five minutes before he realizes it's a losing battle and he bolts out of his seat towards the door, somehow pantomiming to his teacher that he's about to throw up. He can hear Rachel calling after him, then talking to their teacher before her shoes click on the floor behind him, following him down the hall and bursting into the fucking _boys'_ bathroom just as Puck's stomach explodes into the toilet.

"Noah! Are you all right?" She pauses to take a breath before continuing without waiting for his answer, which is probably good, since his stomach revolts again. "Of course you aren't all right! Did you eat something that was bad? Or, oh no! Is there a bug going around? I haven't heard of anything?"

"Relax," Puck croaks out, flushing the toilet and heading towards the sink to rinse out his mouth. "I just, y'know. Sometimes I puke." He shrugs and tries to make it look like no big deal, because it's really not, or at least the puking itself isn't.

"Are you _all right_?" Rachel asks again. "You looked upset when you came into the room."

Puck blanches a little again, because he can fucking _hear_ them, and then his brain's off spinning out horrible scenarios again, and he shakes his head, hard, as if he can physically dislodge them.

"Noah?" Rachel steps closer. "Noah? Puck! Look at me!" Puck focuses on her, nodding a little. "It's okay. It's okay," she repeats. "I'll… I'll stop asking." Puck can tell the concession is difficult for her. "Just breath. Calm down." She steps away after a moment and smiles a little tremulously. "Okay. I'm going to go back to class, okay?" Puck nods again. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone," she adds, and then she's gone, leaving Puck leaning against the wall.

 _Fuck_.

He stays in the bathroom for a few more minutes before slipping back into his English class, and when the bell rings, Rachel walks with him towards the choir room, uncharacteristically silent.

They spend the entirety of fourth period working on ideas for “I Gotta Feeling,” Tina and her group feverishly writing down some of them while Mike experiments with a few steps. Whenever Puck catches Kurt’s eye, he looks weary, and Puck’s pretty sure he looks the same. When the bell rings, Puck’s swept up the group headed towards the cafeteria, though, and he can’t make it back to Kurt without making a production of it. They exchange a final glance before Kurt heads towards the outside doors.

 

When Puck enters the the locker room after football practice, he's even more convinced that he needs to quit. He doesn't know how to explain it to anyone, except Kurt, and the idea of talking to Beiste makes his stomach churn. Again. He heads towards the shower without looking around at all, and stays under the hot spray longer than usual. When he gets out, he has a text message from Kurt.

 _Held up @ garage. Ask Finn for ride?xx_

Puck responds– _NP. xx_ –and then after getting dressed, notices that for once, Finn's _not_ the last person finished showering, and in fact was already gone by the time Puck even sent the text.

Tuesday sucks, just like Monday.

Well. It's only about fifteen minutes, and he'll pass by Thai Jasmin on the way, so Puck shoulders his backpack and grabs his clothes and heads out the door, using his phone to call Thai Jasmin and place an order, so it'll be ready to pick up by the time he gets there.

The walk isn't too bad; Puck's still warmed up from practice. Even if he did wish he was at fucking _work_ at one point during practice, and doesn't that pretty much say everything? He grabs their food and walks the rest of the way, sighing a little when he doesn't see the Nav in front of the house.

Well, if he's lucky, Finn or Carole left the sliding glass door unlocked, so he climbs over the fence into the backyard. Luck is with him for once on the miserable day that is Tuesday, and he slips into the kitchen, setting the food in the oven, which might keep it warm. He kicks off his shoes and looks in the living room. No Finn, even though his truck's out front.

"Hello?" he calls.

"Hey, Puck!" Finn calls down the stairs, and a second later there's a second voice.

"Hi!" Rachel's voice carries down the stairs.

Oh. Fuck. Before he can formulate a response, his phone rings, loudly. _Storm clouds may gather, storms may collide_ repeats twice before Puck answers it.

"Hey."

"Hi. Where are you?"

Puck snorts and walks back towards the kitchen. "Your house. Where are you?"

"I called Finn and he said he left before you, so I drove over to the school," Kurt laughs ruefully.

"Yeah, I just walked over once I realized for once Finn wasn't the last person in the locker room. Oh, I got food on the way."

"Cool. All right. I'll be there in just a few minutes, then. Be good."

"I'm always good."

Puck opens the refrigerator and pulls out a can of pop, and then slumps into a seat at the table. Brilliant. Rachel's there, just to add to the clusterfuck that is Tuesday. Or maybe it's just the whole week.

Kurt gets home pretty quickly. "Sorry, sorry," he says, running into the kitchen and sliding onto Puck's lap.

"S'okay." Puck kisses Kurt's cheek. "Rachel's here, by the way."

"Oh, good god." Kurt sighs. "Fuck this day."

"No, fuck this week," Puck corrects as they both stand, Kurt getting out plates while Puck retrieves the food from the oven.

"Hmm. Yes." Kurt nods in agreement. They sit down at the table and start to eat when Finn and Rachel come down the stairs.

“Hey guys,” Finn says. “‘Sup?”

“This week sucks,” Puck answers around a mouthful of curry. “That’s what’s up.”

“Oh. Well, uh, that’s too bad,” Finn frowns. “Any hope of it getting better?”

Puck just shakes his head and takes another drink. “Not really,” he admits. “Hey, Rachel.”

“Hello, Noah,” Rachel smiles. “Ooh, is that Thai food?”

“Curry,” Kurt answers with a nod.

“I grabbed some pad thai for Finn, but I didn’t know you’d be here,” Puck explains, gesturing at the remaining closed container.

“Ooh, is it the shrimp?” Finn exclaims. “Sorry, Rach. I know you won’t eat this kind. We could go grab you some, too.”

“I’ll be fine as long as your mom bought some more of those veggie burger patties,” Rachel assures him, patting him on the hand. “Go ahead and eat your food.”

“I think I saw Carole putting them away,” Kurt volunteers. “Far left.”

“Got ‘em!” Rachel calls, her voice muffled from the freezer.

“So your week doesn’t suck?” Kurt addresses Finn.

Finn shrugs. “It’s a week. The glee stuff is going pretty great. I mean, I don’t really expect much more than that out of a week.”

Kurt also shrugs. “Rachel, are you going with Finn on Saturday?”

“I am!” Rachel turns from where she’s warming up a veggie burger, which smells pretty foul in Puck’s opinion. “It’ll be fun. I can’t believe you didn’t want to go!”

“I don’t mind watching people I know play, but I’m not going to watch an entire game otherwise, really,” Kurt explains.

“Anyway, I wanted you to go,” Finn says to Rachel. “And Kurt likes to have the house to himself sometimes.” He looks at Kurt and flushes a little, realizing what he’s just said.

Puck takes a drink quickly, choking on it a little, and Kurt looks mildly alarmed before he recovers. “It’s... just nice to have the house quiet from time to time,” he finally says, voice very light.

“Oh, I absolutely agree,” Rachel says, nodding her head. “I do my best practicing when I’m alone.”

“I bet!” Finn says, obviously trying not to laugh at the look on Kurt’s face.

Puck pushes his empty container away. “Well, I guess we should go work on that, uh, physics lab.”

“Absolutely,” Kurt quickly agrees. “We’ll be upstairs, Finn.”

“I bet!” Finn repeats, and this time, he does laugh.

As they climb the stairs, he can hear Rachel asking “What’s so funny, Finn?” and Finn choking out something about physics.

When they reach Kurt’s room, though, they don’t discuss physics, even though maybe they should study for that test. Kurt pushes the door closed and then pulls Puck over to the bed. “We should talk about it.”

“I know,” Puck agrees. “I just don’t know what to say. It was... bad. Just. Bad.”

Kurt nods and leans back against his pillows, pulling Puck with him, and Puck rests his head on Kurt’s shoulder. “No, it is. There’s not a good word.” Kurt laughs, but it’s a brittle sound, high-pitched. “I really thought... I thought that maybe you could, I don’t know, _escape_ it. If you didn’t come out, if no one knew, maybe you wouldn’t have to hear it.”

Puck smiles a little sadly. “It’s a nice thought, K.”

“I mean, I don’t think they knew. They wanted you to get _angry_ , to protest.” Kurt’s hand strokes Puck’s head gently.

“It _does_ make me angry. But not for the reasons they think.” Puck sighs. “Why do they all care so much, blue eyes? Not just them. I know we live in some really red district or whatever, but I don’t.”

“I don’t know, baby,” Kurt whispers.

“I hate to think about how many times you’ve had to hear it,” Puck admits. “I’ve only had to deal with it _once_.” He laces his fingers through Kurt’s. “You’re so strong, K.”

Kurt chuckles wryly. “I don’t know about that. I think it’s more that I’m calloused. Like your guitar-playing fingers, except for not so happy a reason.”

“If you were calloused, it wouldn’t hurt anymore, blue eyes,” Puck counters. “You’re about the farthest thing from calloused.”

“I wish I could make it stop,” Kurt confesses. “I hope you never have to hear it again.”

“And I want the same for you,” Puck agrees, moving so that he can capture Kurt’s lips with his. They kiss for a long time, slow and gentle, but Puck knows, somehow, that neither of them will get their wish.

 

Puck lingers behind when they all exit the field after Wednesday's practice, catching Coach Beiste's eye. "Hey, Coach, can I talk to you for a few minutes after I get changed?"

"Sure," she agrees. "Just wait for me in my office, okay?"

"Yeah, thanks." Puck takes his time in the locker room, and then walks slowly towards Coach's office. He knows he has to do this, but it doesn't make it any easier. He smiles a little at the sight of the Safe Space sticker on her door, then slips inside her office and sits down in front of her desk. Puck pulls out his phone and slips in his earbuds, listening to the three songs he's narrowed down for this week's glee assignment. He's just finished the second when Coach walks in.

"What's up, Puckerman?"

"Um. Two things." Puck pulls his earbuds free. "First, can you hang around, a little hidden, on the second floor breezeway, north side, between second and third periods?"

"Sure. Same troublemakers?"

"Yeah," Puck nods and then sighs heavily. "I… I really hate to do this."

"Do what?" Beiste's face is curious and concerned.

Puck takes a deep breath. "I need to quit the team."

Beiste looks stunned, and she doesn't speak for awhile. "Are you sure that's what you want to do?"

Puck snorts a little. "No. But it's not a matter of what I want to do, at this point. And my game's going downhill." He exhales. "Of everything I have on my plate, football is the only thing that's really optional. I don't want to quit, but I need to."

"Okay." Coach Beiste nods slowly. "I can understand that." She appears to study him for a moment before nodding again. "You want to tell the team, or you want me to?"

Puck shakes his head. "I'll let you."

"All right." She smiles. "I'll miss you, Puckerman. Come back and see me whenever you make it back to Lima to visit in the next few years, okay?"

"I can do that," Puck agrees, returning her smile. He stands. "Thanks, Coach."

"Thank _you_."

Puck feels a little weird and a little boneless as he walks home, but also lighter and a little relieved. He pulls out his phone and sends Kurt a quick text.

 _Come over after dinner?_

He's nearly home before the reply comes through.

 _Sure. 7:30 okay? xx_

 _Great. xx_

Puck doesn't say much during dinner, just tells his mom that Kurt's going to come over for a little bit, then retreats into his room until 7:30, playing through the song he's decided to play for this week's assignment. He'll play it on Friday.

Rina lets Kurt in, and Kurt appears at Puck's door almost silently, slipping inside and shutting the door behind him. "Hi."

"Hey, blue eyes." Puck reaches out with one hand and pulls Kurt to him, settling them on the bed and putting his guitar to the side.

"What's up, baby?" Kurt asks, hand stroking gently over Puck's arm.

"I quit."

"This afternoon?"

"After practice," Puck nods. "She was cool about it."

"And how are _you_?"

"I don't know," Puck admits. "Sad. Disappointed. But also relieved and a little lighter."

"Do you have to tell everyone?"

"Nah, she said she'd do it. Which is easier," Puck admits. "A lot easier."

Kurt nods. "Okay." Puck can practically hear him thinking. "How do you want to handle Friday?"

"Friday? Oh." Puck nods. "Something red underneath warmer clothes?"

"Okay." Kurt's arms tighten around Puck. "What do you want to do Friday night?"

"I don't know. Maybe hide at your house."

"That works for me."

 

“Let’s hear some songs with heart,” Schue opens their Thursday afternoon glee rehearsal. “Artie, I think you said you wanted to perform today?”

“Absolutely, Mr. Schue,” Artie nods and rolls to the front. He launches into Kanye’s “Welcome to Heartbreak,” which is a little mournful for Artie’s usual forays into hip-hop.

 _Chased the good life my whole life long  
Look back on my life and my life gone  
Where did I go wrong?_

He does a good job with the song, though, and soon enough, it’s time for the next act. Rachel’s whispering something frantically to Kurt, who seems to be torn between rolling his eyes and being sympathetic. While they’re whispering, though, Mike and Tina head towards the front of the room and start singing.

 _That's what you get when you let your heart win, whoa.  
That's what you get when you let your heart win, whoa.  
I drowned out all my sense with the sound of its beating.  
And that's what you get when you let your heart win, whoa._

Mike incorporates some pretty sweet moves and when they finish, Tina informs them all that the song was “That’s What You Get” by Paramore.

“Kurt and I would like to go now!” Rachel pops out of her seat and Kurt follows her at a more sedate pace. “This is ‘Fidelity.’”

When the music starts, Puck nods a little, recognizing the melody if not the name of the song. Kurt takes the first verse, his voice back in its higher register.

 _I never loved nobody fully  
Always one foot on the ground  
And by protecting my heart truly  
I got lost in the sounds  
I hear in my mind_

Rachel joins him then, and they sing the next lines together, before Kurt sings alone, a small smile on his face.

 _And suppose I never ever met you  
Suppose we never fell in love  
Suppose I never ever let you kiss me so sweet and so soft  
Suppose I never ever saw you  
Suppose we never ever called_

The remainder of the song is either the two of them singing together or Rachel singing alone, until they get to the final repeats of “break my heart,” Kurt’s voice singing out alone on the final three words.

Puck’s glad he’s in the back row, because he knows he’s grinning, and possibly rather stupidly. Kurt catches his eye as he walks back to his seat and just _smiles_ , brilliant and unguarded, for a split second, and Puck has the strong urge to spring out of his seat and pull Kurt to him.

“Oh, that was beautiful,” Schue says with a smile.

“Thank you, Mr. Schuester,” Rachel responds, and Kurt just nods.

“So let’s brainstorm some fundraising ideas!” Mr. Schue brandishes a marker and heads towards the whiteboard, and Puck’s not the only one he can hear choking back a laugh. “What have you got?”

“I think we should have another bake sale,” Artie says almost immediately. “Those were great cupcakes Puckerman baked a couple of years ago, yo.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Puck responds quickly. “We’re gonna have to skip the cupcakes.” Schue raises his eyebrow but Puck just shakes his head and doesn’t expand on his answer.

“Well, we could certainly have a bake sale without Puck’s cupcakes,” Schue says after a minute, writing ‘bake sale’ on the board. “What else?”

“We could get a booth at the spring carnival. ‘Dunk a New Direction.’” Brittany beams.

Puck can see Rachel wincing, but he has to admit, it would draw in some quick cash. “It would be a quick way to get four or five hundred,” he says. “A good supplement, anyway.” Schue nods and writes it on the board.

“We could always try a concert again,” Quinn begins, but the rest of them shake their heads vigorously, and Schue doesn’t even attempt to add it to the list.

“There’s always a car wash,” Mercedes offers. “Minus any rocks, of course.” She grins over at Kurt, who shakes his head with a little smile.

“That’s true,” Rachel nods. “It’s like the carnival booth–a good supplement.”

“We really need something big, like the Invitational,” Puck says. “I mean, sure, we have a slightly bigger budget from Figgins this year, right, Mr. Schue?” Schue nods. “But that just means we can eat a little better, probably. We need about $400 more a person for Nationals, maybe $500. So let’s say $6000. We have $2200.”

“Let’s say we do the car wash and the carnival booth, and we manage to get $1500 between those two,” Mike offers. “Then we just have to get about $3000 more.”

Tina’s eyes are huge. “How are we going to do that?”

“A dance.” Everyone swivels to look at Santana. “Remember freshman year? There was a winter semi-formal, around Valentine’s Day. It was something like $20 a person or $30 a couple, which is still way cheaper than prom, right? And there’s, what, a thousand kids at McKinley? I don’t know. Anyway, at thirty bucks a ticket, we only need one hundred people to show. We could probably cut the price a little and still be fine.”

“That’s genius, Santana.” Kurt is the first to speak, and he’s pulling out his phone, probably to look at the calendar, Puck thinks. Sure enough, the next thing out of his mouth is, “Mr. Schuester, please, please, _run_ to Principal Figgins and reserve Saturday, February eleventh.”

“Yes,” Puck breaks in. “Seriously. That’s perfect.”

“It really is!” Rachel grins at Santana. “And if it goes well, we won’t have to worry about the carnival or a car wash! Or we can still do them and use the money to upgrade our food budget.”

“All right, all right,” Mr. Schue breaks in, smiling. “I’ll go see if Figgins is still here.” He tosses the marker at Puck. “Why don’t you guys start brainstorming more about the dance?”

“Do I look like a teacher or something?” Puck has to ask, even as he stands up.

“You just look so natural in front of a white board, man,” Finn says, with a grin.

Puck looks to make sure Schue’s out the door. “I didn’t bring my vest today, dude.”

“I think we can all pretend you’re wearing it,” Finn chuckles. “I mean, that image kinda _sticks_ , bro.”

“So. What am I writing? Santana said thirty bucks but yeah, we could probably drop that.”

“What about something like twenty for couples and twelve for singles?” Kurt suggests.

“Yeah, I was thinking twenty-five for couples and fifteen for singles,” Finn offers. “Because, you know, less change to make.”

“I’ll write ‘em both up here,” Puck says with a shrug, and does so.

Mercedes speaks up next. “We shouldn’t promote it as ‘New Directions presents’ or anything. Not lie, but well. It wouldn’t hurt to leave out who’s benefiting, probably.”

Finn nods. “No reason that our name needs to be on any of the fliers or anything,” he agrees. “We just call it something festive and, you know, non-specific.”

“We should heavily promote it with the underclassmen,” Quinn offers. “Most of them won’t be going to prom, and their money is just as good as a junior or senior’s.”

“Are we going to have a theme?” Sam asks.

“Isn’t Valentines kind of a theme?” Finn looks puzzled. “Or, like, do you mean like ‘Alice in Wonderland’ or ‘Everybody Hates Romance’ or something?”

“Bad romance,” Kurt offers dryly, and Puck hides a grin.

“I like that,” Mercedes nods with a grin.

“How do we make that work as a dance theme?” Finn asks. “Sounds like a singles mixer or something.”

“Because you’ve been to _so_ many of those,” Kurt says with a sidelong glance at Finn. “It’s... ironic, or something.”

“I could have gone to singles mixers if I wanted to,” Finn protests. “I just...chose not to.”

“It could be fun,” Brittany argues. “The couples can feel smug that they’re not in a bad romance, and everyone else will feel like they can come anyway.”

“Ooh! We could do Lady Gaga decorations!” Rachel squeals.

“Damn. I was just thinking that,” Puck says, shaking his head. “Some of that red stuff draped everywhere.”

"It's probably because we share the same heritage. It makes us think similarly about things.” Rachel beams.

“Chantilly lace,” Kurt supplies. “Red Chantilly lace. Or bubbles.”

“Or both!” Tina grins. “They’d work well together.”

“As long as we don’t have to _wear_ the bubbles or the lace,” Mike interjects.

“Yeah, one afternoon in a red rubber dress is _more_ than enough for me, thanks,” Finn says. “That stuff made me sweaty.”

“Yeah, you were totally hot in that get-up,” Puck says, winking at Finn.

“Jackass,” Finn snorts. “Next time, _you_ can wear the rubber dress.”

“Hey, I could rock that look,” Puck protests. Kurt smirks a little.

“Yeeeaah, moving right along,” Finn says, rolling his eyes. “So, we have a theme, then. Are we doing live music like at prom?”

“It’d be cheaper, definitely, but do we really want to add preparing for that on top of Regionals?” Puck points out.

“Maybe we could pick one or two people off of each committee to handle that?” Finn suggests. “Make a smaller dance committee. They can either assign us songs or they can do whatever stuff they think is best.”

“Let’s go ahead and figure that out, then,” Kurt suggests.

“Well, I’m probably the least qualified person on the song-writing committee,” Finn volunteers. “I think it would come along just fine without me.”

“No, no, I don’t think it should be that anyone _leaves_ their committee,” Rachel insists. “It should be in addition to! Finn, you and I should both work on the dance committee _and_ the songwriting committee!”

Finn smiles warmly at Rachel. “And if the two ever conflict, we know Kurt and Puck are both pretty damn capable and can probably get some words working with that music, and you and me, we’ll help as much as possible.”

“Right!” Rachel nods. “Who else?”

“I’d like to work on the dance committee,” Quinn offers. “If that’s all right?” She smiles brightly.

Rachel looks at Quinn suspiciously, and Puck can practically see the wheels turning in Rachel’s head. Puck’s pretty sure that for once, Quinn just wants to work on a dance, but hell, maybe Rachel’s right. “Yeah, and Santana should work on it, too, since it was her idea,” Puck suggests.

“I’ll back up Finn with the testosterone perspective,” Artie interjects. “That gives us an uneven number, too, in case we have a tie.”

“Ok, sounds good,” Finn states. “Puck, you can write that on the white board, so Schue can see what the plan is.”

Puck scribbles the last name on the board as Schue bounds back into the room. “Great news, guys! Figgins already signed off on all the paperwork _and_ we have the date you suggested, Kurt.” Schue wheels to look at the board. “Oh, wow, you guys got a lot done! Prices, a theme, _and_ a committee.”

 

"How are you feeling?" Kurt asks as soon as they climb into the Nav to head towards school. "No one asked about our attire, anyway."

"No," Puck muses. "I don't know. Just weird. I don't have a good term for it. A little bit like a coward for not just announcing it to everyone myself, but I don't really want to get into any explanations. I can sort of explain it to Finn later, and he'll tell Sam and Mike and Rachel, and then I won't really have to think about it after that. At least not the explaining it part."

Kurt nods. "I can understand that."

The twelve of them enter the school together, then peel off in smaller groups, headed towards first period, and Puck finds himself walking next to Brittany. "You seem tense," she remarks. "Are you okay?"

Puck shrugs. "I'm fine. Thanks, though."

"Okay," Brittany shrugs also and smiles. "Good, then."

 

Mercedes doesn't even bother to sit down when she enters the choir room during fourth period, clearly ready to stake her claim on going first. Mr. Schue just nods, and she launches into a song that's a little different than her usual fare, but not too different.

 _I know the darkness falls on you, and it's just a point of view  
When you're outside looking in you belong to someone and when  
you feel like giving in and the coming of the end, like your  
heart can break in two, someone loves you_

She smiles broadly at the end as everyone applauds. "That was 'Looking Out' by Brandi Carlile, for those of you that didn't know."

"Wonderful, Mercedes. Finn?"

Finn nods and walks to the front of the room, talking to the jazz band for a minute before they begin to play.

 _If I could open my arms  
And span the length of the isle of Manhattan  
I'd bring it to where you are  
Making a lake of the East River and Hudson_

Puck can't remember the name of the song, but he's pretty sure it's Death Cab for Cutie. The music is upbeat, but the lyrics are somewhat mournful, and when Puck looks to Kurt beside him, Kurt looks pensive as he watches Finn.

When Finn finishes, Puck stands up and grabs his guitar, sitting on a stool and taking a deep breath. He didn't decide on the song until the moment he told Coach Beiste he was quitting, but he knew it was exactly the right one.

He plays the first chords, then looks up at an indistinct place on the wall, above everyone's heads.

 _I tremble; they're gonna eat me alive  
If I stumble, they're gonna eat me alive  
Can you hear my heart  
Beating like a hammer  
Beating like a hammer_

The words just pour out of him, and the faster tempo is a little bit of a relief. He lets his eyes drift to Kurt for a moment before resuming his stare at the wall.

 _If we're still alive, my regrets are few  
If my life is mine, what shouldn't I do?  
I get wherever I'm going  
I get whatever I need_

He closes the song after repeating the first two lines for the third time and holding the final chord, and then he nods a little to himself and stands up, sitting down without really looking at anyone as they applaud.

"Great song," Schue compliments him. "I think I've heard that used for something to do with zombies,” he continues, chuckling. "Next week, no theme, just artist's choice. Have a great weekend!"

Everyone scatters, eager to get out ahead of the bell, and Puck heads towards the parking lot, not even having to look to know that Kurt's right behind him. They stay silent until they reach the Nav, doors shut. "Zombies. High school. What's the difference, right?" Puck chuckles dryly, and Kurt squeezes his hand.

When their dual enrollment classes are over, Kurt drives them straight back to his house and almost shepherds Puck instead. "Sit," he instructs, pointing at the kitchen table, and Puck does so.

"What're we doing?"

" _We_ aren't doing anything. _You_ are going to eat. Then you're going to take a nap."

"A nap?" Puck frowns a little.

"Yes. And then after dinner we're going down to Starbucks and you're going to talk to your manager about changing your schedule. After that we'll come back here and watch a movie or something." Kurt fixes him with a glare. "If you're going to have twelve to fifteen extra hours, baby, you need to rest more and feel less stressed."

"Okay, okay," Puck concedes, his hands up. "What am I eating, then?"

After Kurt's satisfied with his food intake, Puck lets Kurt take him upstairs and push him onto the bed. Kurt covers him up and kisses him softly, then says that he'll be downstairs for a bit. Puck pouts a little but Kurt just shakes his head a little and walks out of the room anyway.

 

Kurt sits at the kitchen table, working on his French translation for Tuesday and keeping one ear open for sounds of life from upstairs or outside. He’s already called Carole and let her know he’d cook, and put the lasagna in the oven just a few moments ago. He hears the distinctive rumble of Finn’s truck and nods to himself a little, listening to him enter the house.

Finn comes in with a look of concern on his face. “Puck wasn’t at practice,” he said. “And Coach told us he quit the team. Tell me he’s ok, dude.”

“He’s... well, he’s not _okay_ , you and I talked about that,” Kurt sighs, putting his pencil down. “He’s upstairs asleep right now.”

Finn nods. “I just wanted to make sure there wasn’t another...” He doesn’t continue, because he doesn’t really need to. “I wanted to be sure it was what we talked about, is all, and not something else.”

Kurt nods. “He’s not happy about it, but I think he felt like it was the only option. And. I can’t disagree with him.”

“I’m not happy it came to that,” Finn says, “but I don’t think I disagree, either. Something had to give, man. He looked dead on his feet. It was scaring me.”

“He hasn’t had time to work on his college applications in a month,” Kurt says quietly. “And you were right. He has lost weight.” He pauses. “Did anyone say anything about it?”

“With me there? And Mike and Sam?” Finn shakes his head. “I guess they might say something later, but nobody said shit with me there. Wouldn’t put up with it if they did and I’m pretty sure everybody knows that by now.” His eyebrows knit together and he looks briefly uncomfortable, like he’s trying to put together a thought that he’s not sure he’s going to manage to express correctly. “I can’t be everywhere. I try to be, you know, but I can’t,” is what he settles on.

“I know.” Kurt tilts his head, clearly listening, and then slides one of the other chairs out with his foot. “Listen. Something happened the other day.”

Finn sits, mouth tightening into a thin line. “What?”

“Puck thought... we thought that maybe if he walked with me all the way between second and third periods, Johannson and Fordham would shut up, at least for a day, right?”

“Right?” Finn tentatively agrees. “No?”

“They just pluralized,” Kurt says flatly. Finn looks at him blankly. “Put an ‘s’ at the end of it, Finn.”

“End of _what_? What did they call you two?”

“God, Finn don’t make me _say_ it. The other f-word, okay?”

Finn nods, his lips pressed together hard. He snorts an angry little breath through his nose. “This is gonna be taken care of.”

“Please don’t get expelled.”

“You don’t worry about that. You worry about you and you worry about him,” Finn says, with a jerk of his head in the direction of the stairs.

“Oh, I already do that,” Kurt says with a sigh.

“I know you do,” Finn says, gently. “I can’t do anything much about that, but dammit, I can do something about this.”

“Okay,” Kurt shrugs helplessly. “Have at them.”

“That’s the plan,” Finn sighs. “So, how long’s he been asleep?”

“An hour, hour and a half. I’ll probably go wake him up in a little bit, so he can still sleep tonight. Dinner’s lasagna, by the way.”

“Ooh! My favorite!” Finn bounces in his seat. “Well, one of my favorites. One of my four or five favorites. Five or six.”

“Luckily, there’s more than one pan.”

“Well, that’ll do for _me_ , but what about you guys?” Finn grins.

Kurt throws his pencil at Finn. “Shush.”

“This is the real kind, right? With meat?”

“Yes, with meat. And cheese.” Kurt looks shifty for a moment. “I made a vegetable one for Dad.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” Finn smiles conspiratorially. “I’ll just make sure there’s no meat lasagna leftovers to gives us away.”

“You’re a prince among men.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Also very modest.”

“Yeah, that, too.”

 

Puck feels like he’s barely slept when Kurt shakes him gently awake. “Hi,” Kurt says softly, and Puck half-smiles.

“Hey. Dinnertime already?”

“Almost.” Kurt sits on the edge of the bed. “Finn’s home. I talked to him for a little bit.” His hand runs over the shaved portion of Puck’s head. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about explaining anything.”

“Okay,” Puck exhales and nods. “That’s good.” He tilts his head into Kurt’s touch. “What’s for dinner?”

“Lasagna.”

“Oh, good.” Puck grins. “The vegetable one or the meat one?”

“Both. Dad should eat the vegetable one, but Finn will only eat the meat one.”

“He’s missing out. Should do like I do, eat them both.”

Kurt grins. “See that you do, then.”

 

Kurt must’ve told Burt and Carole, because neither of them mention football at all during dinner, and Kurt pulls him outside even before Finn leaves for the game. Part of Puck wants to be gearing up, too, but the rest of him knows that he’s gonna manage to actually finish his college applications, among other things.

Ms. Horatio doesn’t even look that surprised to see him. He tells her he doesn’t mind opening some days, and he wants to keep his Sunday shift, and the twenty hours, but he needs to not be working every morning before school. She nods, smiles a little, and when he and Kurt leave thirty minutes later, he’s acquired a brand-new schedule: eight hours on Sunday, opening on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, and one four to nine shift on Wednesdays. His afternoons are suddenly open, and he gets two more days a week to sleep past five am.

“This is great,” he can’t help but say as they drive back to Kurt’s house.

“It’s like you’ll be able to sleep,” Kurt grins.

“And do homework. And actually write music.”

“Exactly.”

“You know,” Puck confesses as they walk into the house and sit on the couch. “I had a lot of reasons for going out for football in middle school.”

“Oh?”

“I was... I could read how things were,” Puck elaborates. “And I was already this poor Jewish kid, whose dad had gone and left.” He rests his head on Kurt’s chest. “That’s why I do Hannah’s birthday parties. My dad walked out the day she was born. Mom used to fall apart every year on that day. Hannah was supposed to be a boy, a better boy than me, because I was already the wrong kid, not the kid he wanted. I don’t know if he knew, or what.” Puck shrugs. “I was already the poor Jewish kid with a single mom, and then I had to go and like _music _, which had been cool still in third and fourth, but by fifth grade I noticed it was considered lame, right?” Puck sighs. “And that was around the time I decided I was going to ignore or bury or whatever the fact that I liked boys. Football was a great cover for pretty much _all_ of that.”__

Kurt just nods, his hands moving soothingly on Puck’s head and shoulders.

“Finn said something about that, after Brown showed up. Why the football team or whatever. But it is a good cover. I mean, you could have even used it, if you’d wanted. You could’ve been the star kicker.”

“I thought about it, briefly,” Kurt confesses. “You’re right. It would’ve been doable. I would have had to change too much, I decided, but... in another life, yes.”

“So the thing is... I put six and a half seasons into it. Trying to stay on top. Trying not to be a loser.” He shakes his head and grins ruefully. “But you know? I’m still all those things. I’m a poor gay Jewish kid with a single mom and a kid sister, a music geek. I’m exactly the ‘loser’ I was trying not to be.” He tilts his head back to look at Kurt and his smile broadens. “But I’m _happy_.”

Kurt returns his smile. “A loser like me, huh?”

“Yeah,” Puck agrees. “A loser like me.”

They sit in quiet silence for a few moments before their phones begin to ring. Kurt’s starts just a few seconds before Puck’s, a cacophony of sound echoing around the living room.

“Mercedes,” Kurt says with a sigh.

“Rachel,” Puck nods.

“I’ll step into the kitchen,” Kurt offers, and Puck sits up slightly before lying back again.

“Hi, Rachel,” Puck sighs.

“Hello, Noah! I couldn’t help but notice that I haven’t seen you this evening. Is everything all right?” She drops her voice a little. “You’re not having stomach troubles again are you?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Puck assures her. “I, uh. I quit.”

“Quit?”

“Football,” Puck clarifies. “I–something had to give.”

“Oh. _Oh_.” Puck can almost picture her nodding, and there’s a long pause. “Your song wasn’t about zombies, was it?”

Puck laughs, because trust Rachel to focus on that part. “No, it wasn’t,” he acknowledges. “Not about zombies.”

“Welcome to the dark side,” Rachel says, and if her voice is even warmer than usual, Puck doesn’t really mind.

“Thanks,” Puck says wryly. “Go cheer really loud, okay, Rachel?”

“I will,” she giggles. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”

“Maybe,” Puck concedes. “Bye.”

“Bye, Noah!”

The phone is silent for a minute before it starts to ring again, and as Puck answers, he can hear Kurt’s phone ringing anew.

“Hi, Artie.”

“Where you at, Puckerman?”

“I quit, dude.”

“Really? Why?”

“Lotta reasons. Mainly ‘cause I had to drop _something_ , and it was the least important.”

“That sucks, man. A’right. See you Sunday night.”

“Yeah, see you.”

When Puck hangs up, he stares at the phone for a few minutes, expecting it to ring again, but then, if Kurt took two phone calls, and Sam, Mike, and Finn already knew, that’s almost everyone. None of the Cheerios are likely to defy Sylvester that much, even though the three of them have defied her plenty this year: not wearing their uniforms most days, wearing Glock t-shirts over their uniforms on Fridays, skipping so-called mandatory practices. The truth that the three of them had discovered was that Sue Sylvester needed them more than they needed her.

Kurt comes back into the living room after a minute. “Tina called after Mercedes. I know they’re all sitting there beside each other!”

“Yeah, Artie called after Rachel.” He laughs. “Rachel told me ‘welcome to the dark side’.”

Kurt snorts. “Well, they all seem mollified for now, anyway.”

“Yeah. Movie?”

“Probably a good plan, since we never know what time the game will actually end,” Kurt concedes. “Plus we have almost all day tomorrow.” He grins. “They’re leaving at two. I doubt they’ll be back before midnight, though I suppose we should plan on eleven, just in case.”

“Either way. Awesome.”

They watch _Superbad_ , because it’s funny and doesn’t require any thought, and then they flip on one of the ubiquitous _CSI:_ reruns. They’re commenting on how one of the actresses looks vaguely like Carole when Burt and Carole return home. Burt stops and gives Kurt some kind of complicated look that Kurt apparently understand (and, truth be told, Puck’s good enough at reading Kurt that he can figure out about 40% of Burt’s looks; this one has something to do with Kurt taking him home).

“I should take you home in about thirty minutes, it seems,” Kurt says with a resigned look on his face, once Burt has headed up the stairs.

“What if I don’t want to go?” Puck grins a little.

“I never said I wanted to take you home,” Kurt counters. “Just that I _should_.”

“It’s really too bad your dad is so... responsible.”

Kurt laughs. “I have to agree with that.”

“I think I’ll actually go with Mom and Hannah to services in the morning. You want to come over for lunch? Your dad would probably be happier if he wasn’t driving away from you and I in an empty house.”

“Good point. What time?”

“Eh. Eleven-thirty or twelve?”

“Okay.” Kurt leans his head against Puck’s. “I’m just going to sit here until Dad comes down or clears his throat really loudly or something.”

 

Puck’s kind of proud of himself the next morning. He gets up, eats breakfast with Hannah, and then goes to services without complaining. As she’s done every week that Puck’s attended since the summer, Rina somehow manages to make sure that they are sitting with the Berrys. For all Puck knows, she does this when he’s not there, too, which would really be better, since wanting him to sit with them would look like she was trying to get he and Rachel together, maybe.

When Kurt arrives, they all eat lunch, Hannah doing most of the talking.

“So Mom bought me a really awesome costume, Kurt! I’m going to be Captain America!” she beams.

“That’s great, Hannah,” Kurt smiles.

“Are you going to dress up to go to school? Noah’s worn the same stupid costume to school the last two years.”

“I can’t wear it again, Mom threw it out,” Puck protests.

“What did I throw out?”

“My old ripped-up t-shirt with all the red stains.”

“I think I remember that monstrosity,” Kurt nods. “Chainsaw massacre victim? Very trite, Puck, I’m disappointed.” He grins a little.

“Hey, our costumes are awesome this year. _And_ my idea.” Puck frowns a little. “Even if they aren’t exactly slushie-proof.”

“So we’ll wear something different to school,” Kurt shrugs.

“Like what?” Puck frowns. He’d managed an awesome costume idea for both of them, one that Kurt liked, too, but that was probably the extent of his costume creativity for awhile. If he was lucky, Kurt would agree to wear the same costumes next year, ‘cause no one in New York would have seen them this year.

“Hmm. You could go as Zorro,” Kurt grins. “All black, black mask, black bandanna.”

Puck grins, catching Kurt’s eye and remembering Kurt’s appreciative reaction when he wore all black to do Johnny Cash. “Yeah, I can do that,” he agrees. “What are you going to do?”

“For maximum ability to ward off slushies, I need to dress like the Gorton’s fisherman.”

“The dude with the yellow rubber suit?” Puck grins. “And the yellow hat and beard?”

“The very same,” Kurt agrees, and when he meets Puck’s gaze, his eyes are twinkling a little. Puck’s smile gets a little wider, and he hopes his mom doesn’t notice, or at least, if she notices, she hopes he doesn’t ask _why_.

Kurt insists that they both work for a few hours, and Puck’s pretty pleased with the ultimate outcome: rough drafts for both of the two longer essays the Unified App requires. Kurt’s phone starts making a loud squawking noise after awhile, and they both jump.

“What’s that for?”

“It’s two-thirty. So we can safely leave now, if we like.”

“I do like.” Puck immediately stands up.

Kurt laughs. “Me, too.”

“So what about those days in a couple of weeks, when Finn’s going to visit Wisconsin?”

Kurt groans. “Dad’s being awful about it. He’s convinced that I could only have horrible, nefarious reasons for wanting to stay behind. I heard him muttering something about kegs.” Kurt rolls his eyes and falls silent while they walk through the living room, calling out a farewell to Rina and Hannah. He starts talking again once they’re in the hallway. “I’ve tried to explain it has more to do with missing class. Not to mention, I’m sure he could use me to work those days.”

“Oh, ouch, I didn’t think about classes.”

“I’m sure the teachers at McKinley would be fine, but I doubt professors at a college are inclined to be overly understanding.” Kurt sighs. “I think I’m going to have to start asking about staying with someone else.”

“I’m sure Mom would let you stay with us.”

Kurt grins. “I wish Dad would be as understanding. I think he’d flip. What he thinks we could do supervised in your apartment that we couldn’t do any of the times we’re alone, I don’t know.”

“Maybe Rachel?” Puck offers. “Mercedes? Or, hell, really anybody in glee club.”

“Yeah. The problem isn’t who’d be willing, but rather who Dad is willing to trust.” Kurt frowns. “I wish he’d just be willing to trust _me_.”

“I’m sorry, K,” Puck says, closing the door as he climbs into the Nav.

“But I don’t want to push him too hard,” Kurt adds as he starts the engine. “I’d rather have Chicago, after all.” He pauses, obviously collecting his thoughts. “It’s an eight-hour drive, which means Dad’ll want to leave before noon on Sunday. The events don’t end until five or six pm on Tuesday, which means either driving back and getting in around 3 am, or staying _another_ night and missing _another_ day of classes.”

Puck shakes his head. “Just explain it to him like that. You need to stay with someone because it’s bad enough Finn will miss all that school. Or, I don’t know. Offer to drive yourself and only stay one day?”

“Hmm. That’s possible,” Kurt nods. They pull up in front of the now-empty Hudmel house, and Kurt seems to have a little more spring in his step again. “I could just do the stuff on Monday, leaving later on Sunday than they do, and heading back around four on Monday. I’d still have to stay at someone else’s house on Monday night and Tuesday night, but maybe he’d be all right with that if I at least ‘made an effort’ or whatever.”

“Because Finn will wither and die if you aren’t supportive enough.”

Kurt snorts. “Exactly.” He closes all the doors, slides off his shoes, and deposits his jacket on the coat rack. “Now. Let’s forget about Finn, and my dad, and all of that.”

“I can definitely get on board with that,” Puck grins. He slips his arms around Kurt, tugging him close before kissing him very softly. Kurt’s lips part and their bodies press against each other snugly.

Kurt breaks away after a long moment. “Let’s go upstairs,” he says, a little breathless.

“Let’s go mess up your sheets,” Puck counters with a small smirk, and Kurt nods and grins.

They stumble up the stairs together, fingers wrapped around each other, sharing happy smiles, pure and unguarded, and Puck wishes they could always be so relaxed. Kurt’s face is so open, so at peace, the tight lines in place whenever he’s in public completely gone, leaving no trace.

Puck wants to see Kurt’s face like that more often.

Puck reaches for the bottom of his shirt and pulls it over his head, dropping it casually on the ground before sliding his hands under Kurt’s sweater, slowly working it up Kurt’s torso until he slides it off. Then Kurt presses against him, wrapping them together, and Puck’s mouth is back on Kurt’s. Their kiss is slow but heated, and Puck revels in the fact that they could keep kissing for an hour, if they wanted to. They’re not on a time schedule today. He can take as long as he wants, hands skimming over Kurt’s skin, moving his mouth over Kurt’s jaw and neck to leave small red marks where Kurt’s throat meets his chest.

Kurt doesn’t complain or protest, just tilts his head back to give Puck better access, his arms gripping tighter and his fingers scratching at Puck’s back. When Puck raises his head to press his lips against Kurt’s once more, Kurt’s mouth falls open, his tongue insistent against Puck’s own, and Puck groans just a little, into Kurt’s mouth. Something about the way Kurt’s kissing him tells Puck what’s going to happen next, and despite knowing that they don’t have to hurry, he can’t help but feel eager anticipation. He lets his hands drift to Kurt’s ass, pulling Kurt hard against him, and Kurt’s mouth curves up into a smile.

Kurt slowly pulls away, running his tongue over his lips and grinning like that damn cheshire cat or whatever. Puck can’t help but return the grin, bringing one hand up to Kurt’s cheek and stroking it with his thumb.

“So no shaving until after school on Monday, hmm?”

“No,” Kurt keeps smiling. “I thought that was a nice little bonus for you.”

“Sort of like me dressing all in black?”

“Exactly like,” Kurt confirms, and then his hands are at Puck’s jeans, unfastening them swiftly. Puck finds himself completely naked before he can protest, although he wouldn’t, and he flushes a little, even as he smiles, with Kurt’s gaze on him, eyes running up and down Puck’s body appreciatively.

“You are amazing,” Kurt murmurs, looking straight into Puck’s eyes, and Puck knows what people mean when they say it feels like their heart explodes. The way Kurt’s looking at him–that’s all he needs. Puck closes the distance between them swiftly, his lips hard and demanding on Kurt’s, pouring himself into the kiss, his hands holding Kurt’s head in place.

Kurt responds with equal fierceness, his hands holding Puck’s shoulders firmly. He steers Puck towards the bed before suddenly releasing him again. Kurt strips off the rest of his clothes and then does something with the bed that probably involved folding back sheets, because before Puck can really process any of that, he’s lying in Kurt’s bed with a very eager boyfriend on top of him, the covers now over both of them like a tent.

“We have to keep warm,” Kurt says with a grin, his pupils wide thanks to the reduced light.

“ _You_ have to keep warm,” Puck counter. “ _I_ just have to keep you warm.”

“You do an excellent job.” Kurt’s voice is warm, full of delight, and Puck has to raise his head up and kiss him again, wrapping his arms snugly around Kurt’s waist. Their erections nestle against each other, and Kurt shifts, dragging his length down along Puck’s, making Puck push upwards.

Kurt’s hands rest on Puck’s shoulders and begin to inexorably push them down. Then he leaves them there, seemingly waiting for something. His fingers stroke slowly along Puck’s skin as his tongue slides along Puck’s, and he must be waiting for Puck to fully relax and let go, because when Puck does, he moves.

Puck’s skin tingles as Kurt’s fingers run down it smoothly, circling first one nipple, then the other, before continuing down. Kurt tangles his fingers in the coarse hair around Puck’s erection, carefully avoiding touching it, no matter what noises and pleas come from Puck’s mouth.

“Please, blue eyes,” Puck begs, staring at Kurt, but Kurt just smiles and then lowers his head to Puck’s chest, licking each of Puck’s nipples into a tight nub before moving his mouth to Puck’s shoulder. Puck knows enough about hickies to know that he’s going to have a big one, just barely covered by the edge of a t-shirt, and he tilts his head away from Kurt, exposing more of his neck.

Kurt’s lips return to his after that, and then Kurt’s tongue following, mapping the inside of Puck’s mouth. Puck doesn’t really register anything else, like where exactly Kurt’s hands disappeared to, until he feels a slicked finger circling his entrance. He moans into Kurt’s mouth, spreading his legs as far apart as he can.

Puck gasps a little as Kurt’s mouth leaves his and Kurt’s finger simultaneously slips into him. His eyes, which had briefly opened, close again, and it’s only Kurt’s other hand, resting on Puck’s hips, that keeps Puck from bearing down on Kurt’s finger, trying to take more of it inside him.

Kurt slides his finger further inside anyway, though, the tip rotating slightly inside Puck until Kurt brushes against Puck’s prostate, and then he twitches his finger, hitting the same spot again and again, reducing Puck to a Puck-shaped puddle of incoherent _need_ and strange vocalizations.

Just when Puck thinks Kurt’s finished torturing him, Kurt removes his finger completely, then thrusts three in at once, which stings and burns and then they hit that magic spot again and Puck falls apart again.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” The words practically drip from Kurt’s lips, full of want and desire and a lot of things Puck can’t name, but loves to hear.

“You.” Puck’s breathing is shallow. “You, blue eyes.”

Kurt lowers his head, lips next to Puck’s ear, and whispers. “Then you have me.”

Puck’s body arches towards Kurt, almost without his control, and this time, he hears the click of the lid and the soft wet sound as Kurt’s hand coats Kurt’s cock with the thick gel. Kurt’s fingers disappear, but then Kurt’s hands are lifting up Puck’s legs and the tip of Kurt’s cock is nudging at Puck’s entrance. “Please,” Puck begs again, and with that, Kurt slowly pushes his way in, Puck doing his best to meet him, legs flexed towards his chest.

“So good,” Kurt murmurs, his breath coming quicker, and Puck tightens around Kurt for a moment, watching Kurt’s reaction spread across his face. He thrusts the remainder of the way inside Puck before stilling, hands wrapped around Puck’s thighs.

“Move. Please,” Puck implores after a few moments have gone by, and Kurt ever so slowly drags partially out before pushing back in equally slowly.

“Like that?” he teases.

Puck shakes his head. “Faster.”

Kurt obliges, then, thrusting gradually faster as Puck lifts his hips to meet each thrust. Puck’s hands grasp at the sheets blindly, twisting them between his fingers. He knows he’s not going to last much longer, that once Kurt puts a hand on Puck’s cock, he’ll come fast and hard, but he hopes Kurt will wait as long as possible, bring them to the brink together, and he clenches around Kurt repeatedly. Kurt’s head is thrown back, his body growing taunt, and Puck knows that he’s getting close.

Kurt’s fingers finally close around Puck’s erection, sliding up and down quickly, and in the midst of his hums and cries, Kurt manages to whisper, “Come for me, baby,” and Puck does just that, exploding all over Kurt and himself, and he feels Kurt come inside him at almost the exact same moment.

Kurt collapses on top of him after pulling out, and after a few more moments, reaches blindly into the bedside table before his hand returns clutching a towel. Kurt carefully wipes them both clean, then tosses the towel into the floor and curls around Puck.

“Mmm,” Puck murmurs, shifting so that his back is pressed into Kurt’s chest. Kurt throws an arm over him, pulling him even closer, and Puck lets out a content noise, exhaling.

“I love you, so much,” Kurt whispers. “I... _thank you_ ,” he adds, voice fervent, and Puck reaches up to clasp Kurt’s hand in his.

“You make my world bright, blue eyes,” Puck says after a moment. “I love you, too.” He smiles and closes his eyes as Kurt covers them both with all the sheets and blankets and things, then reclaims Kurt’s hand.

They lie there in perfect silence for a long time before Puck shifts and then turns to face Kurt, using one hand to trace over Kurt’s face. Kurt’s nose wrinkles a little, like Puck’s tickling him, which he probably is, and Puck grins, kissing the tip of Kurt’s nose just as he moves his finger aside.

Kurt finally rolls out of bed half an hour later, and Puck follows him into the bathroom, stepping under the shower spray and pulling Kurt close. It’s hard to say if the shower accomplishes anything other than rinsing them off, especially after Puck slides down onto this knees, taking Kurt into his mouth and stroking himself at the same time. Kurt explodes into him, some of his fluid escaping Puck’s mouth and landing on Puck’s cheek, warm and wet, and when Kurt licks it off for him, Puck comes forcefully as well.

They pull on their clothes again, or at least jeans and a shirt, before padding downstairs and deciding to order Chinese delivery. Four entrees later, they share the last pint of Ben & Jerry’s in the freezer, which will undoubtedly put a crimp in Finn’s morning the next day.

The only dismal part of the entire day is when it’s eleven, and Kurt has to drive Puck home. Kurt exits the Nav and walks Puck all the way to his apartment, pressing Puck’s back against the door and kissing him fiercely once more, sloppy and slow.

The apartment is dark when Puck slips inside, and he shucks off his clothes before climbing into his bed, which seems small and cold suddenly.

 

Sunday comes too early, but after work, Kurt arrives, and even though they’re doing homework, they’re doing it with their legs and sides and arms pressed together and folded with each other. Their physics test is in the morning, and it takes awhile before they’re both satisfied with Kurt’s grasp of the material. Kurt and Puck pack up their stuff before dinner, and head back to Kurt’s house as soon as they’ve finished helping Rina clear the table. They head up to Kurt’s room and Puck fools around on his guitar for a little bit while Kurt works on lyrics for their song for Sectionals.

They hear Finn coming down the hallway before he appears in the doorway, tapping on the door frame. “Hey guys, they’ll be here soon,” Finn says. “You might want to come on down.”

“Oh, right,” Puck nods and they unfold themselves from the bed, following Finn down the stairs.

“So, uh. You keeping busy?” Finn asks, then face-palms. “Ok, that was a dumb question.”

“How about ‘so, dude, are you dressing up for Halloween?’ instead, ‘cause I want to know what Rachel’s coerced you into wearing.”

Finn mumbles something incoherent.

“What was that, man? I didn’t quite hear you.” Puck smirks. “Did you hear that, Kurt?”

“No, I didn’t,” Kurt shakes his head, all wide-eyed innocence.

Finn mumbles again, and this time, the word “lion” is somewhat comprehensible. “And she’s Dorothy.”

“Oh. Oh, my,” Kurt says, pressing his lips together and looking at Puck. Puck’s barely holding it together, biting his lip in what he considers a pretty valiant effort not to laugh. Loudly.

“Well. Great, bro,” Puck says after a long moment, clapping Finn on the shoulder.

“I wanted to be a pirate,” Finn complains, “but Rachel was all ‘I am _not_ going to be some kind of high seas wench, Finn Hudson’ so, yeah. Lion.”

“You could definitely pull off the eye patch,” Kurt nods, “but really, Finn, could you see Rachel as a wench?”

“She could have been the captain!”

“Funnily enough, Kurt’s going to be a captain of a different sort. At least at school,” Puck amends.

“It’s the one day all year that I _know_ a slushie won’t bother me,” Kurt smiles beatifically.

Finn looks at Kurt quizzically. “What captain? I don’t think Captain America will prevent a slushie-ing.”

Puck and Kurt both laugh. “Hannah’s gonna be at her school, dude.”

“The captain-fisherman on the Gorton’s box,” Kurt explains through his giggles.

“You’re gonna be the Gorton’s fisherman?” Finn looks excited. “Will you bring fish sticks?”

“I should, shouldn’t I?” Kurt muses. “But anyway, that’s just at school.”

“I like fish sticks,” Finn says, with a sigh. “It’s too bad you won’t be giving _those_ out.”

“Were you going to go trick-or-treating?” Puck asks, amused.

“Nah, I’m giving out candy with Rachel, but I could have had some fish sticks _first_ ,” Finn suggests. “Anyway, you’re only gonna be the Gorton’s fisherman at school? Are you just going back to street clothes after?”

“No, dude, we got awesome costumes,” Puck grins.

“They are pretty cool,” Kurt agrees.

“What are they? Must be pretty good to be better than the Gorton’s fisherman, dude.”

“Batman and Robin.”

“You’ll probably rock the green tights, Kurt,” Finn laughs.

“No, numbskull, he’s Batman.”

Finn raises his eyebrows in surprise. He looks at Kurt for confirmation and then bursts out laughing, shaking his head. “Yeah, I guess he would be!”

Puck just shrugs and looks at Finn oddly before looking over at Kurt, who also shrugs. The doorbell blares, then, making them all jump.

“I’ll get it,” Kurt offers, and then Puck can hear the door open and voices spill in.

“Hey, dude.” Sam’s the first to make his way into the living room. “Sup?”

“Apple cobbler, man.” Puck jerks his head towards the kitchen. “We should meet here every time.”

“What’s wrong with Asian snacks?” Mike protests, but he’s grinning.

“Uh, I think mine had fish salt on it,” Finn offers, with a small wince.

“I thought you _liked_ fish,” Puck can’t resist pointing out. “You were just pouting over Kurt not handing out fish sticks.”

“We’re having fish sticks?” Mercedes steps into the room.

“Kurt’s handing out free food?” Mike looks equally confused.

“Fish sticks and salt that tastes like fish are two completely different fish-related products, Puck,” Finn protests. “Geez.”

“Sorry, I’m not the expert on all things fish,” Puck says, completely unrepentant.

“Is that some kind of euphemism?” Tina asks brightly.

Finn makes that choking, strangling sound he makes and Sam pounds him on the back in an attempt, Puck’s sure, to be helpful. Finn puts up a hand to indicate he’s ok and then swats at Sam when Sam won’t stop whacking him on the back.

“Did I miss a memo that we’re supposed to beat on Finn today?” Kurt asks as he leads the remaining members into the room. “Because if so, I am bitterly disappointed. The day’s nearly over.”

Finn wrinkles his nose at Kurt in what appears to be an attempt to look fierce, but mostly just looks ridiculous. “Nah, he’s just choking, again,” Puck explains with a wave of his hand.

“Does that happen often?” Artie asks, puzzled.

“Oh, he’s not good at swallowing,” Kurt says, deadpan.

Another loud snorting cough comes from Finn, who turns bright red and doubles over, heaving oddly squeaky laugh-sobs. “UN,” he wheezes. “COOL.”

Kurt looks around the room, eyes wide, and Puck could almost believe the innocent act he’s pulling. “What?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Santana says, a little too sweetly. “We’ll just move on.” She turns towards Puck then and raises her eyes. “Wuss.”

“Huh?” Puck furrows his brows.

“Huh?” Finn repeats, still wheezing. “Who’s a wuss?”

“Puckerman,” Santana elaborates. “You could’ve given us some warning.”

“Which you required why, exactly?” Puck raises his eyebrows.

“Would’ve saved us all a lot of time, for starters. Phone call, phone call, run up the stairs, run down the stairs, avoid Sylvester, blah blah blah,” she finishes.

“Shut it, Santana,” Finn snaps.

“I for one applaud Noah for making a–”

“Okay, okay,” Puck stops Rachel mid-sentence. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to do exactly this, all right?”

Finn glares at Santana, even as he’s putting an arm around Rachel. “Then let’s get the meeting started. Moving right along...”

“Before it gets too dark, we should go outside and run through some of the choreography we’ve worked out,” Mike says into the sudden silence.

“Yeah, it’s awesome,” Brittany adds with a smile.

“That sounds great, Mike,” Finn says. “Let’s go on out.”

There’s something of a mad scramble towards the door, too many bodies trying to go through a sliding glass door at one time, and Puck hangs back by way of snagging some pop from the refrigerator. Kurt slides a hand across Puck’s shoulder and down his arm as he passes by, and they’re the last two onto the deck, Mike and his committee illuminated by the twilight–and the motion detector lights Burt installed.

“So we’ve tried not to focus on complexity so much as cohesion,” Mike says, and the rest of them just nod sort of dumbly. “Anyway... we’ll just show you!”

The choreography that they do does seem like it won’t be too difficult to learn, at least, and like they can sing easily while they’re doing it.

“This looks like it’s coming along pretty awesomely!” Finn exclaims. “Good job, dance team!”

Mike and the others grin, and Tina nods too. “We’re trying to finish the arrangement for this up this week, so they can work around lines and solos and things.”

Finn grins at them. “Amazing what practice will do, huh?”

“Of course, we don’t have anything for the third song,” Tina trails off with a little smile on her face. “Do we?”

“Oh, we’re definitely getting there! I think the chorus is shaping up wonderfully,” Rachel grins.

“What exactly is the song about?” Quinn asks.

“Love,” Finn says definitively.

“And yet, we haven’t had to use the word ‘love’ once in the lyrics,” Kurt adds, before anyone can roll their eyes or otherwise make a comment. Not that Puck thinks they would, per se, but anything’s possible with them.

“It’s _subtle_ ,” Finn states, nodding his head.

“I don’t think it’ll need elaborate choreography, though.” Kurt nods his head towards Mike. “It’s more of a solo or a duet piece.”

“Okay, good,” Mike nods, and Puck thinks he actually looks a little relieved. He wonders suddenly how many other groups actually operate like this. Yeah, from what Kurt said, the Warblers had a council or something, but they weren’t exactly doing elaborate dancing. Or writing their own songs. Or even doing anything to pick out a set list besides giving Blaine free reign.

“Maybe we should run through ‘Seasons of Love’ a few times?” Rachel offers. “Except maybe inside.”

Kurt shivers and nods. “I agree. Inside.”

“You need a sweater, dude?” Finn asks, sweetly. “Because I know it’s hard for you, having no body fat and all.”

“Shut up,” Kurt mutters, but he’s the first one inside the house, and he sort of uncurls as his body absorbs the heat. LIKE A LIZARD. A SHOULDER LIZARD. AN ADORABLE TINY SHOULDER LIZARD.

Before they can start singing, Carole pops her head around the doorway. “Hi, everyone! I have some apple cobbler for you guys when you’re done. Does anyone want coffee?”

Twelve hands raise simultaneously and she just laughs before disappearing again.

 

Puck decides on a long-sleeve black shirt instead of a t-shirt, but otherwise dresses as Kurt suggested once he’s done with work Monday morning. He has to laugh at a little at Kurt, who’s obviously borrowed fishing gear from his dad for his costume. The blue turtleneck is the only part of the costume that fits quite right, and Kurt confides that it is, in fact, from the thrift store. When Kurt said he wanted to be slushie-proof, Puck figures, he meant it.

The mask makes Puck feel a little better about walking through the door, too, and he figures Kurt probably knew that somehow, so he bumps his shoulder lightly against Kurt’s before heading towards history. He’s sure that there are some students who haven’t heard about his quitting, plus a fair number that won’t care, but he does feel like there’s a few more people staring at him than usual for a Monday morning.

Even if Zorro carrying a grande cup of Starbucks is a little unusual.

No one _says_ anything, though, and he thinks maybe a few of the kids in his history class thought about it, but Finn scans the room with a glare on his face, and not a word is said. The kids in physics aren’t exactly the type to say anything, either, even if there wasn’t a test; most of the rest of the jocks are in A &P with Finn, as far as Puck knows. And English? Rachel’s glare is more effective than Finn’s could ever hope to be.

So Puck walks into glee rehearsal during fourth period feeling surprisingly good about the day. There’s a little bit of talk about people’s various costumes, but Schue walks in as the bell rings, holding a envelope in his hand.

“Guess what came in the mail on Saturday?”

“A check for ten thousand dollars?” Puck suggests.

“A store wanting to donate our costumes for the rest of the year?” Kurt offers on his heels.

“A cease and desist letter for a song we’re not even doing, because Coach thought we might like it?” Brittany shrugs when everyone stares at her. “It could happen.” They have to nod, because she’s right. It could.

“Nope, none of those,” Schue laughs, “though either of the first two would be great, wouldn’t they? No, this,” he holds up the envelope, “is our assignment for Sectionals.” He pauses for only a second before ripping it open. “The suspense has been killing me,” he confides, then slides the letter out of the envelope and unfolds it. “And... Finn, drumroll please!”

Finn doesn’t do a drumroll. In fact, he just looks at Schue like he’s crazy, but Schue doesn’t seem to notice.

“We are going to be competing against... the Troy High School Trojammers and the Dalton Academy Warblers!” Schue cries.

Puck purses his lips as everyone starts to react. He can see Kurt sort of roll his eyes but otherwise remain impassive. Puck’s not real thrilled about another opportunity to interact with Blaine or Trey, but if they’re lucky, they won’t really see them. It’s very possible.

“Aw, shit,” Finn mutters.

“Mr. Schue?” Puck raises his hand. “Are we allowed to take a giant mirror with us? We can reflect the sunlight into the auditorium that way.” Finn laughs hysterically, doubling over.

Mr. Schue looks at Puck, puzzled, then over at Finn before shifting his gaze back to Puck, who has on his best dumb look. Schue shakes his head.

“I don’t know that much about the Trojammers. We know a bit more about the Warblers, of course. We’ll start working on picking out our set list in a week or two.” Schue smiles. “Now! Artists’ choice week. Does anyone have a song prepared?”

“We do!” Finn says. “Me and Mike and Sam.”

“Great! What are we going to hear?” Schue looks more interested than usual.

“It’s called ‘Float On,’ by Modest Mouse,” Sam says with a nod, and Schue nods, making the expression that should probably be called his ‘attempting to be a wise teacher’ face.

Finn takes the first verse, Sam playing guitar and Mike dancing.

 _I backed my car into a cop car, the other day.  
Well he just drove off, sometimes life's ok.  
I ran my mouth off a bit too much, oh what did I say.  
Well you just laughed it off, it was all ok._

They all sing together–well, Mike may or may not be lip-syncing, it’s hard to tell–on the chorus, however, and the remainder of the song.

 _And we'll all float on, ok.  
And we'll all float on, ok.  
And we'll all float on, ok.  
And we'll all float on any way, well._

“That was fun!” Brittany says as they finish, and Schue nods his head in agreement.

“I really liked that, guys, great choice.” He scans the room. “Does anyone else have a song they’d like to perform?”

“I have a little number,” Rachel beams, stepping to her feet, and sure enough, she’s even got ruby slippers on. Without missing a beat, she launches into “We’re Off to See the Wizard,” _a capella_.

 _We're off to see the Wizard  
The Wonderful Wizard of Oz  
We hear he is a Whiz of a Wiz  
If ever a Wiz there was  
If ever, oh ever, a Wiz there was  
The Wizard of Oz is one because  
Because, because, because, because, because  
Because of the wonderful things he does  
We're off to see the wizard  
The Wonderful Wizard of Oz!_

She finishes with a bright smile and sits back down. Finn claps enthusiastically with a big smile, and most of the rest of them join in as Rachel takes her seat again.

“Thank you, Rachel,” Schue says with a nod. “Anyone else?” When no answer is forthcoming, he claps his hands together. “Great. See you all Thursday. Have a happy Halloween!”

Puck considers taking off the mask before going to his dual enrollment classes, but ends up leaving it on, much to his music professor’s amusement. When they’re finished with class, Kurt drives them back to Puck’s apartment where they change into their other costumes before heading to pick up Hannah at Rina’s request.

Their costumes are pretty awesome, Puck thinks, especially since he swapped out the lame-ass green tights for shiny green swim trunks. When they pick up Hannah, she proclaims that they look weird, with a roll of her eyes, and then runs into her room as soon as they get home, pulling on her Captain America costume, repeating for the tenth time that it’s a _real_ Captain America costume, and not some lame version with a skirt like their mom tried to make her get. Somewhere in the rant, there’s something said about Stevie, and while Kurt smirks, Puck determinedly tries not to hear that part.

After a really early dinner, Rina takes Hannah out to trick or treat, and Puck rides with Kurt over to the Hudmel house, because Kurt agreed to hand out the candy there (and no one ever trick or treats in Puck’s apartment building). Kurt heads upstairs to put his bags away and Puck walks into the kitchen to wait for him (and to grab the bowl of candy).

Finn jogs into the kitchen and starts rifling through the fridge, tossing a “hey” to Puck without even looking at him. When he turns around, chicken wing in his mouth, and sees Puck, his eyes go wide and he shakes his head rapidly, like he’s trying to clear his vision.

“Dude,” Finn says around the chicken wing. “You, uh.”

“Look badass? I know.”

“Look, uh.”

Puck raises his eyebrows, even though maybe Finn can’t see it, because of the mask, and pokes through the candy bowl a little more. “Look, uh, what?”

“Let’s just say that outfit?” Finn takes the chicken wing bone out of his mouth. “Totally would have fit in at Pride, dude.”

“So,” Puck begins, amused. “You’re saying I look gay?”

Finn purses his lips, like he’s not sure if there’s a right answer for this. “I’m saying those shorts are very shiny, and that’s gonna be my only comment on that.”

Puck just snorts, laughing a little. “You think? That was sort of the point. Those tights were lame, dude.”

“Aren’t you gonna be cold?”

“Eh, I got these boots. And it’s not like handing out candy requires walking through blustery winds uphill both ways.”

“Whatever you say, man,” Finn shakes his head. “Better you than me.”

“Yeah, you couldn’t rock this look,” Puck shakes his head, as if chagrined by the fact.

“Definitely not.”

“Headed over to Rachel’s?”

“Yeah,” Finn sighs. “Liony goodness.”

“Have fun,” Puck salutes him with a fun-size Twix.

“Oh, for sure,” Finn says as leaves the kitchen and then heads out the door.

Puck pulls out a few more pieces and sets them on the table before hefting the bowl in his hands as Kurt comes back downstairs. “Finn left?”

“Yeah. He pretty much told me I looked gay,” Puck snorts, smirking.

“Oh dear,” Kurt says, deadpan. “Whatever will you do?”

“Hand out candy. Maybe,” Puck amends. “Or maybe I’ll hoard it in here.”

Kurt shakes his head. “Come on, let’s go out on the porch. The tiny little kids will start appearing soon.”

“All right, all right,” Puck concedes with a grin, wrapping his arm around Kurt. “After all, where would Batman be without his trusty sidekick?”

 

Once the last of the trick or treaters has seemingly disappeared, Rachel disappears into the kitchen for a minute and returns with two cans of pop and the leftover candy in a bowl. “So!” she says brightly.

“So?” Finn repeats, grinning at Rachel. Her little blue plaid jumper and her hair in two long braids on each side of her face make him smile. Finn doesn’t care what anybody else says about how Rachel dresses; it’s sweet and innocent and, sure, sometimes a little silly, but he likes it. Dorothy is the perfect costume for her, because Dorothy is good and strong, like Rachel.

Now, the lion mane she insisted he wear and the little brown dot of paint she dabbed on his nose, those maybe weren’t the high point of his night, but he can suffer through it for her. He’s willing to suffer through a lot for a few extra minutes with Rachel, because they’re precious and the number he’ll have left with her is growing progressively smaller.

Rachel takes a deep breath, like she’s preparing herself for something, and then starts speaking. “I’m starting to think I’m going crazy, Finn. I know, some people think I already am, but I’m really not. And I _am_ a little bit psychic. Finn, what’s going on with Kurt and Puck?”

Finn’s eyes widen and he forces himself to not make the guilty face. He _knows_ he makes the guilty face when he lies, and he doesn’t want to lie, but what else is he supposed to do? “They’re, uh, being Batman and Robin, I think.”

Rachel’s eyes widen, and she gets a look like something else in her brain has clicked into place, somehow. “I didn’t mean tonight, Finn. I meant since.” She stops and frowns. “For awhile. Since right after school started. I know Puck hung out at your house a lot this summer from what you told me, but there’s something else there.”

“I don’t think anything much has changed since school started,” Finn says, and he’s not _lying_ , because Kurt and Puck got together before school was back in session. And since he figured out how they felt about each other before they did, well, that hasn’t really changed either. They were just slower picking up on it. So that part’s true, too.

“Did you know that Puck’s ringtone for Kurt is from the song ‘Come What May’?” Rachel presses. “That’s from _Moulin Rouge_ , and it’s odd enough that Puck even _knows_ the song, much less that he would choose it for a ringtone. I wasn’t sure at first,” she explains, “because it was such a small portion of the song, but then I heard it on Tuesday last week, and it was a different part of the same song!” She frowns. “And Puck’s there even when you aren’t! He clearly was there to see Kurt.”

“Kurt loves _Moulin Rouge_ ,” Finn answers.

“Kurt’s ring tone for Puck is _not_ ‘Americano,’ either,” Rachel continues, almost as if Finn hasn’t spoken. “It’s from ‘Edge of Glory,’ which speaks about _falling in love_ , Finn.”

“Uh, the ringtone he uses for me is from a song about vampires or something,” Finn says, making a face. “I don’t think that means anything. I mean, I’m not a _vampire_.” He snickers a little bit, because he’s not a vampire, or a gay vampire, either.

“And then there’s just the way they act around each other,” Rachel muses. “And! Hannah! Speaking about Kurt like he’s there all the time.”

“We’ve seen them a few times this year,” Finn says, trying to explain it in a way that sounds innocent _and_ doesn’t veer from the truth. “I mean, we do the breakfast every year, and that’s from way before Kurt and Burt were around, and we did a Labor Day cookout this year. My mom and Ms. P are friends, you know. Oh, and Kurt helped Puck with Hannah’s birthday or something, so she knew him from _that_ , I think.” Yes, that all sounds perfectly fine and reasonable.

“He helped Puck with Hannah’s _birthday_ ,” Rachel repeats incredulously.

“Well, uh,” Finn rubs his hand across the back of his neck, stalling for the time to make this make sense. “Last year. I mean, last school year, I told Puck that Kurt could maybe help him with mother’s day shopping. It was _my_ idea. I told Puck that Kurt’s like the _best_ shopper. So, I mean, I guess it would make sense, wouldn’t it? For Puck to ask Kurt for help with Hannah’s birthday shopping? I mean, Puck probably isn’t good at picking out stuff for little girls, and Kurt’s like the _best_ shopper.”

“I suppose,” Rachel says doubtfully. “I just can’t shake the feeling that there’s something else going on there, Finn. I can’t believe they’d keep a secret like that from _you_.”

“Of course they’d never keep a secret from me,” Finn scoffs. “They’re my brother and my best friend. Also, they practiced dancing. That’s why they hang out so much. Dancing. The lift, right? They dance. And anyway, why don’t you and me do that lift thing? I could do that. My arms are strong and you’re tiny and also a super great dancer.”

“That would be fun,” Rachel agrees with a smile. She shrugs slightly. “I guess I’ll just have to talk to Mercedes or Tina and see if they’ve noticed anything unusual.”

“Puck’s always been unusual,” Finn says, staunchly. “And Kurt’s just, he’s Kurt, you know? He had a rough year last year. Don’t bug him too much with this kinda stuff. He’d be embarrassed.”

“No, no, of course not,” Rachel agrees, nodding. “I made sure to veer away from the topic the last time we talked.”

“You’re really thoughtful,” Finn smiles at Rachel. “You’ve really grown, you know that? I love that about you, how much you’ve started looking after everyone else in glee.”

“Aww, you’re so sweet, Finn.” Rachel presses against his side, wiggling her way under his arm.

He pulls her into a tight embrace and tilts her head up until their lips meet. Her mouth tastes like candy corn and when he runs his hand across her shoulder and down the front of her jumper, she doesn’t slap him away.

 

Kurt removes the last piece of the Batman costume and slips into pajama pants and a t-shirt before grabbing his phone and replying to Puck’s text. He’s waiting on Puck’s response when he hears Finn thundering up the stairs.

“Hey Kurt? Kurt?” Finn calls out. “Kurt? You up here?”

“In my room, Finn,” Kurt calls out.

Finn comes bounding through the door, his face flushed, but his expression an mix of alternating joy and concern. It’s almost comical. “Kurt! Ok, so. Phew. Ok! Two things!”

“Okay.” Kurt puts his phone to the side.

“Well, ok, first, I mean, I know you don’t care about boobs, but _I_ care about boobs, so,” Finn grins. “Rachel let me touch her boob! I mean, over the Dorothy dress, but still. Not just side boob. _Actual front boob_.”

Kurt blinks for a just a moment and then manages to put an appropriately congratulatory expression on his face, he hopes. “I suppose congratulations are in order, then.” He smiles, and if it’s a little strained, Finn probably won’t notice. “I hope for your sake that it’s not a holidays-only occurrence.”

Finn snorts a laugh and ducks his head a little. “Who knows? Oh, but...” his face falls. “Um. The second part isn’t as cool as the first part. I mean, I did the best I could and I think maybe I distracted her a lot with the whole boob thing.”

“Distracted her from what?” Kurt asks, puzzled.

“She was asking questions,” Finn mumbles. “About you and, um, Puck. I think I threw her off the scent, but she was asking some pretty good questions.”

“Like what?” Kurt tries to stay calm, but Puck hasn’t been calling her Super-Sleuth without reason.

“Like why he’s got the song from that movie with the singing hookers as your ringtone, and how come you don’t use ‘Americano’ for his, and something about Hannah, and, oh, she says that she thinks Puck comes over here just to see you sometimes.”

Kurt’s still stuck on the first part of the sentence, mouthing ‘singing hookers’ for a minute. “Really? Puck uses something from _Moulin Rouge_ as my ring tone?” He can’t help but grin a little.

“Uh, if that’s the one with the hookers and Obi Wan and all the red stuff, then, yeah? Apparently?” Finn makes a face. “And I dunno why that’s some kind of big clue or something, but she thinks it is. I mean, I told her you really like that movie, so that’s probably why. I didn’t want to lie to her about anything, you know, but I can’t really _tell_ her anything.”

“Which song?”

“What?” Finn sputters. “She’s maybe figured out you and Puck are a thing and you’re worried about the song? I don’t know what song. Call him and ask him what song just played when you called him.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Kurt shakes himself a little. “Well. This is problematic. Did she seem to accept your explanations?”

“I think so? Maybe?” Finn sighs. “I don’t know. I tried to explain about how my mom and Puck’s mom have been friends and so of course our families hang out together, and you know, it’s not like that part’s not true. I tried not to tell her anything that wasn’t true. She said she was going to talk to Tina and Mercedes, but when they don’t know anything, maybe she’ll just let it go.”

“Oh dear god,” Kurt’s mouth drops open. “No. No. She cannot do that.”

“I told her she should leave you alone about it,” Finn apologizes. “I didn’t want her saying something to you or, god, not to Puck. Not now.”

“Oh shit,” Kurt mouths, hand half-covering his mouth. “Fuck!”

“I’m so sorry!” Finn exclaims. “Seriously, I _tried_ to convince her, but...I didn’t want to _lie_ to her, Kurt! I should have just lied to her. I’m sorry. I just, I couldn’t look in her face and tell her something that wasn’t true. It’s bad enough keeping stuff from her. I mean, I don’t mind doing it for you guys, but, I can’t just look at her and _lie_.”

“Stop! Stop, I know, Finn, I know. It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault. It’s just... if she mentions it to Mercedes or Tina, they _will_ see it.” Kurt closes his eyes and rests his head in his hands. “Text her. Tell her... tell her... fuck if I know. Tomorrow’s Tuesday,” Kurt mutters, half to himself. “Glee club, PFLAG, Tuesday evening... Tell her–”

“I’ll tell her not to say anything and that we’re gonna talk to her later. If I ask her not to say something, she won’t, Kurt,” Finn promises. “She doesn’t want to gossip. She just wants to know what’s going on. I know, I _know_ it’s not her business. I’m sorry. I really tried.”

“I know.” Kurt looks up at last and smiles a little. “I know, Finn. I’ll–I’ll talk to Puck tomorrow.”

“I’m so sorry,” Finn whispers. “Puck doesn’t need this. Hell, you don’t need this.”

“As you’ve said, we’re not particularly good at the secret-keeping thing.” Kurt shrugs. “Really, it’s probably quite remarkable we made it this long.”

Finn shrugs. “I’m the wrong person to comment on that, man.”

“Yes, well, we’ve already established your remarkable ability to see right through us,” Kurt grins a little.

“I know stuff sometimes,” Finn smiles. “It’s almost like I know you guys or something.”

“Shocking,” Kurt agrees. “Thanks, brother,” he adds, a little softer.

Finn shrugs again and shakes his head at Kurt. “Kurt, it’s what we _do_.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t be polite,” Kurt grins.

 

Puck wonders why it takes so long for Kurt to reply to his last text, but when his phone finally chimes and he picks it up, he knows the reason immediately, and all he can think is _shit_.

 _Finn just home. Rachel asking v pointed questions. Finn tried to put her off, but I think she knows._


	3. Interlude: Where's Number 20?

Finn’s in the locker room, joking around with Mike, when he realizes Puck isn’t there yet. Puck’s always on time, in fact, he’s normally early and changed before most everyone else gets there, but he isn’t there yet. Something feels off and Finn peeks into Puck’s locker, to find it empty. Puck obviously hasn’t already come and gone. He’s just not there.

“Hey Mike,” Finn calls, “you talk to Puck today?”

“Yeah, in stats,” Mike answers, shrugging. “Why?”

“He seem like he was feeling ok? Mention any place he had to be?” Finn asks.

Mike shakes his head. “No. I mean, he was a little quiet in class, but sometimes he starts writing music down, you know? We got out a little early, maybe he stopped to get something to eat.”

“He’s never late,” Finn mutters, worried. “He’s usually the first one here, man. Something’s not right.” Finn twists his mouth up and walks back and forth across the locker room a couple of times, thinking, trying to decide if he has time to (or if it would be a good idea to) call Puck or at the very least, Kurt.

The door to the field creaks open, then, and Beiste yells in. “On the field! Hustle!”

Finn feels a flash of relief over not having to make the decision to call or not call, scoops up the rest of his gear, and hustles out to the field.

Beiste begins to explain their practice drills for the day, as well as discussing a bit about their opponent that evening. “Any questions?” Finn’s hand shoots up. “Hudson?”

“Yeah, where’s Puck?” Finn asks, and the question must also be on Mike and Sam’s minds, because they nod.

Beiste looks vaguely surprised for a moment and appears to study Finn’s face, then Mike and Sam’s, too, before nodding slightly. “Puckerman quit the team, guys. He asked me to let all of you know. He wasn’t happy about it, but I respect and understand his reasons.”

Finn nods. Yeah, Puck probably wasn’t very happy about it, but he couldn’t keep on the way he’d been going, that’s for sure. Finn’s been watching Puck melt away over the last couple of months, and as much as it sucks to not have him on the field, Finn would rather have him _off_ the field and in one piece than on the field and working himself to death.

“What?” Sam says, his tone disbelieving. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. Puck? Voluntarily quit?”

“Can it, Sam,” Finn says, without any real heat behind his words.

“Is he okay?” Mike asks, concerned. “I mean, he’s not injured, is he?”

“You taken a good look at him lately, man?” Finn responds. “I’ve known him since first grade and I’ve never seen him look that rough.”

Mike chews on his bottom lip for a minute and then nods. “Yeah, he has been looking pretty tired. I swear I think he fell asleep in stats the other day. I mean, I don’t blame him!” Mike laughs. “But that is kind of a bad sign.”

Finn nods. “Yeah. Something else had to break or he was going to. Sucks that he quit, like seriously sucks, but what else was he gonna give up?” He shakes his head, and says, in an undertone, “I mean, wouldn’t you rather he quit football than glee? It’s weird to think of it like that, but...”

Mike and Sam both nod as one of the other player speaks up. “Man, that does suck, but who’re we playing in his position tonight, Coach?”

Finn listens to Coach ‘s answer and then mostly tunes her out as she runs to the changes this means for their gameplay. He’ll figure it out on the field. That’s where things make the most sense. Strategy, plays, all of that is important, but the only time Finn feels like he can really think is when he’s in motion on the field. It’s the place his feet and his brain both work the way they should. He’ll figure out the gameplay _and_ his game _plan_ for what to say to Puck once he gets out there on that grass and things make sense.

 

The usual Friday night routine is a little different this week.

Usually, Puck and Mike come out early and talk to the guys in suits for a little while, then go join the rest of the team for warm-ups. Brittany’s the first to notice something is amiss. “Hey, where’s Puck?” she asks Santana, tilting her head towards where Mike is talking to three guys in suits.

“Maybe he’s still in the locker room,” Santana shrugs, and Quinn nods.

“He can’t _always_ be the first one dressed.” When the rest of the team appears, though, Quinn frowns. “I don’t see Puck now, either, though.”

“Me either,” Brittany and Santana echo her, and they all three exchange puzzled looks. When they look up into the stands, they can see that the four of them sitting there look confused, too, Rachel and Mercedes both talking on the phone.

“Kurt’s not here either,” Santana mutters under her breath, and then they look over at the team.

Finn, Sam, and Mike just look... resigned.

When they look back at the bleachers, now it’s Artie and Tina on the phone, Mercedes and Rachel conferring about something, and the three Cheerios exchange glances and nod.

Brittany walks over to the three other Glocks, smiling prettily at anyone who attempts to stop her and continuing as if she has every right to be wherever she wants to be. “Hey, guys.”

“Hey, Britt,” Sam answers her, and the other two smile as well.

“Where’s Puck?”

“Uh...” Finn exchanges a glance with Sam and Mike. “He quit. Too damn much on his plate.”

“What do you mean?” Brittany looks really confused

“He’s looked really awful,” Mike points out. “I didn’t see it until Finn pointed it out, to be honest, but then it’s sort of obvious.”

She wrinkles her nose. “He has seemed worn out, but he seems happy, so I didn’t worry about it. He’s so much nicer now.”

Finn nods. “Yeah, well, nice doesn’t substitute for sleeping and eating.”

“It does seem like he’s been living on coffee,” Sam says, a little wryly. “Between the stuff he brings every morning and those instant coffee packets.”

“That’s a lot of coffee,” Brittany nods.

“Yeah, and he’s not getting enough sleep, he’s working from dawn until school,” Finn sighs. “Something had to give and football makes sense, and _nobody_ is gonna give him any crap about it.”

Brittany nods again, flashes a final smile, and heads back to the Cheerios, because she has an important message to spread.

 

Meanwhile, Quinn and Santana slip up the stairs into the stands, hoping Coach Sylvester won’t notice the tell-tale red and white uniforms anywhere but where she says they are supposed to be.

“What’s up, guys?” Tina asks brightly.

“Where’s Puck?” Santana asks. “Is that what your mad phone action was about?”

Mercedes nods, but Rachel answers. “He quit. I think he was exhausted. I talked to him, and he said that ‘something had to give.’ I for one can’t imagine the schedule that he’s been keeping.”

Santana frowns, and Quinn’s face mirrors hers. “He could have told us,” Quinn offers. “None of us would have gotten mad.”

“If he’s really that tired, he’s probably not all that happy about quitting,” Artie speaks up.

“Yeah, maybe he just didn’t want to talk about it,” Mercedes shrugs. “Whatever.”

“Hmm.” Santana shrugs. “Weird. Later.” She trots off back down the stairs, Quinn on her heels, and when they return to the huddle of Cheerios, it appears that Brittany’s already finished informing the rest of them. She has an almost severe look on her face, and it definitely seems out of place.

“Did they tell you?” she asks without preamble. “Puck can’t live on coffee.”

Quinn raises her eyebrows, and Santana just nods. “Yeah, they told us. I guess he has been looking kind of rough.”

“Finn says no one’s going to give Puck any trouble,” Brittany continues, “so I told the rest of the girls that, too.”

Santana can’t help but smile, and Quinn smiles a little, too. “That’s good, Britt-Britt,” Santana says.

“I just want all of us to be happy,” Brittany says with a smile and a shrug. “I know Puck liked football, but he can’t be happy if he’s not sleeping.”


End file.
